


Next Gen - Casebook

by PagesInAChapter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: All credit to @lobster-roll-no-bun on tumblr for inspiration, All the fixit fics in the world won't fix that nightmare so we're movin on, And I like writing casebooks alright I know I've done a bunch before, And YES Sam's blurry wife is actually Eileen because I say so and nobody can stop me, Gen, Spin-Off, Sure maybe they don't own the idea specifically but I got super hyped over their cute art so, TFW Next Gen, casebook, uhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 30,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PagesInAChapter/pseuds/PagesInAChapter
Summary: Almost twenty years after the death of Dean Winchester, the next generation of hunters is ready to take over. Dean Winchester II, Jody Winchester, and Sam and Cas Fitzgerald have been sheltered and protected growing up, by parents desperate to keep them as far away from the past as possible, but is it really their fault that hunting is in their blood? What are they meant to do?
Relationships: Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 34
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

When Dean was eleven, he had his first encounter with the supernatural. 

His parents up until that moment had successfully kept him away from monsters and ghosts– that is to say, physically. Of course he knew about them. Sam had told him the gentler stories of his own hunting experiences to help Dean sleep and teach him about the world. Eileen had taught him basic hunter-specific sign language and gestures, drilling the movements into his muscle memory almost before he knew how to sign his own name. Both his parents had taught him to fight. Defence only, they'd said. Defend and run away. Do not attack.

Dean got the idea that, while Sam and Eileen didn't want him to be a hapless victim of some random vamp, they also were very against the idea of him actively participating in hunting as they had when they were younger. This was fine by Dean. He'd once put his surname into a google search, and that experience was enough to keep him on the straight and narrow.

All that changed however, when Sam's past came over to visit.

It was rainy Sunday morning. Dean was barely awake, slowly eating his breakfast on the couch while his little sister Jody hummed quietly, lying on the carpet and swinging her legs in the air as she drew in her sketchbook. She wasn't a very good artist yet, but many of her drawings had earned a place of respect on the fridge. Today, she was drawing a portrait of their mother, as she pottered around the kitchen, working to fix a cupboard door that had come off its hinges.

Dean and Jody started as someone outside rapped sharply on the door. "Hello?" A voice called. "Anyone home?"

Jody started to stand, glancing towards their mother, but Dean held up a hand. "I got it, don't worry her."

The front door had a chain lock, which Dean left connected. He was young, but he wasn't dumb. You couldn't just go around opening the door to complete strangers, after all. 

"Who is it?" Dean opened the door a crack, not sure who would be visiting so early on a Sunday morning, of all days. The answer turned out to be a boy a couple years older than Dean himself, maybe thirteen or fourteen. His hair was a golden-blonde colour, hanging over his eyes in wet strands. He wore a black hoodie, which he'd shoved his hands into with an expression of anxiety. Dean had never seen this boy before, not even at school. Maybe he went to the private school up the road.

"Is this the Winchester house? I'm looking for Sam." 

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly. Usually visitors looking for his father were older and tougher, with a knife or two on their belts. Hunters, come to chat or get information or beg Sam to come and work a case with them. This boy was a little young to be a seasoned hunter.

"I'm looking for Sam?" The boy repeated, his voice an octave higher than before. "My name is Castiel Fitzgerald, and I really need to see Sam."

 _This_ got Dean's attention. He knew that name. He knew both of those names. This boy wasn't a threat, he was just a distant friend.

"Hold on." Dean shut the door to unlatch it. "Hey Jody, could you get dad please?"

"No, I'm busy!"

"Just get dad! This is an emergency!"

The instant Castiel crossed the threshold, he looked lost. His eyes darted left and right, lips parted slightly in wonder. "Your house is so.... _normal_."

Dean folded his arms. "Yeah, well, what were you expecting? Ancient texts on every surface, a cabinet of weapons, warding scratched into the walls?"

Castiel stared for a minute, rain water dripping off the end of his nose. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Dean! Jody said it was an emergency! Are you alright?" Sam rounded the corner, holding a wicked looking blade. He'd been retired for over a decade, but old habits died hard. At the sight of Castiel, however, he quickly stashed the knife and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as Jody peered around him warily. 

To his credit, Castiel didn't freak out. Instead he raised his chin, his eyes flashing with stubbornness. Dean could admire that. This boy was either brave, or stupid. Either way, it was impressive.

"Hi Mister Winchester, I'm Castiel Fitzgerald. You know my dad–"

Sam wasn't listening. He was looking at Castiel in a new light, one of wonder and amazement. The last time he'd seen this boy, he'd been small enough to hold in one arm. The gape, however, quickly turned to a frown. "Is that blood?"

Dean blinked rapidly and glanced at Castiel's arms, still with hands shoved into hoodie pockets. The sleeves were slightly darker than the rest of the material, and glistened with something a little more than rain. Dean swore under his breath, earning a filthy look from Jody. How hadn't he noticed?

With a gentleness completely contradictory to his entrance, Sam helped Castiel remove his hoodie, sucking in a breath at the long scratches on Castiel's forearms. After a second of thought Sam nodded to himself, and turned to his children. "I'm just going to deal with this. You two go hang out with your mother for a while okay?"

They complained. Of course they complained. This was something new and interesting and strange, and they wanted to be involved. But Sam's endless patience wore them down, and the two of them went to find Eileen in the kitchen, attacking the leaky plumbing with a wrench.

Well, Jody at least, went to find Eileen. "Mum!" She signed, tugging on Eileen's sleeve to make sure she got her attention. "Mum, there's a boy here! His name is Castiel! He's hurt, and dad wants us to stay away while he handles it."

Eileen stood up so fast she smacked the top of her head on the cabinet she'd just fixed. Hissing, she rubbed the sore spot. Castiel. Surely not _the_ Castiel? An image flashed behind her eyes, of her Sam once again being encourage to drive cross-country by his family, returned from the dead after all these years.

But no. Jody went on to explain the Castiel was a blond child, and a Fitzgerald. A human, sort of. Mostly. Eileen nodded almost to herself, pulling Jody in for a quick hug. "That makes sense. We'd better make sure the house is safe. If he's hurt, something might be chasing him. Understand?"

"I'll get the salt." Jody was proud of herself for remembering that one. And, secretly, she hoped the salt would be for a purpose. She'd never seen a ghost or anything before, only heard of them. How fun it would be, to go to school tomorrow and tell her friends she'd seen a ghost!

Down the hall, Dean was peeking through the slightly ajar door of Sam's bedroom. His father was sitting on the floor in front of Castiel, murmuring soothingly as he cleaned and stitched the wounds. Castiel was crying a little. He didn't have to hold himself together to impress the hunter's kids anymore. Here, he could just be a lost and injured boy.

"What did this to you?" Sam asked softly, wiping a smear of blood off of Castiel's palm. Castiel sniffled and dragged an arm over his face, immediately hissing in a pain at the movement.

"Sam did. My brother, I mean. It was an accident; we were arguing and we both lost control. I... ran away after the fight. _God_.” Castiel pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I hope he's okay. I don't even know if he's alright.

"He'll be fine. I'll call Garth, I still have his number saved. Alright, open up. I need to check your teeth, make sure nothing's loose.” 

Castiel opened his mouth obediently, and Dean gasped at the flash of fangs, at the sudden golden shine to Castiel's eyes. Heart pounding, Dean skidded back into the kitchen and pressed himself against the wall to breathe before his mum and sister saw him. 

A werewolf! A real werewolf, in his house! He had to tell Jody! 

Before he could do so Sam’s voice thundered through the halls. “Dean! Get in here!”

“Ha ha.” Jody said in a sing-song voice, appearing at Dean's elbow."You're busted! That's what you get for sneaking around!"

"Shut up." Dean moved to shove her, but Sam called again and he cringed. The last thing he wanted was his dad to be mad at him. 

Sam was sitting cross-legged on the bed with Castiel in front of him, managing to keep a brave face. Dean lingered in the doorway for a moment, before padding over to perch on the edge of the bed. With a swift glance over at him, Sam pressed a roll of bandages into Dean's hands.

"You're not subtle. If you want to help, show me your bandage technique while I call Garth." He scooted over so Dean could take his spot on the bed. Castiel looked wary, arms extended, but Dean was gentle. He moved the bandage up and over, wrapping from wrist to elbow.

"There." Dean said, tying it off. Castiel smiled, flexing his arms to experiment and sighing with relief when the bandages held.

Smiling as he hung up the phone, Sam ruffled Dean's hair. "Good job, kiddo. Nice work. Cas, your dad'll be here in a couple minutes." With that he left the room, a spring in his step that only presented these days when Sam was feeling accomplished.

Praise from Sam wasn't rare, but Dean beamed even so. Castiel stood up and stretched. "I should get my things together, figure out where your dad put my hoodie." He stuck out his hand for Dean to shake, a wolfish smile crawling across his face. "I have a feeling we'll be great friends, Dean! See you later!"

"See you." Dean said, mystified, as Castiel left the room, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the carpet in his wake.


	2. Adopt, Don't Shop

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Dean! Happy birthday to you!"

Dean blew out the candles, laughing, as his family and friends cheered. He was sixteen, finally. It had felt like the last few years had dragged on forever.

Across the table, the Fitzgerald twins were clearly scheming. They had a specific sparkle in their eyes reserved exclusively for trouble. Dean narrowed his eyes playfully at them, and Sammie Fitzgerald smiled innocently back.

Castiel, however, didn't have quite the same poker face. His eyes flickered, just for a second, over Dean's shoulder.

"Ha! Too slow!" Dean launched himself sideways out of his seat, just in time to avoid Jody's bucket of ice water, which proceeded to soak the cake and the twins instead. For a moment nobody spoke, before Castiel started laughing.

Eileen shook her head with a smile, picking up the ruined cake before the dog could reach it. "Don't worry, I bought a spare. Just in case." She signed, words slightly muffled by the plate in her hands. Gesturing to Sam to keep an eye on the kids, she hurried off.

Sam stood for a second, silently watching his two children and their best friends wrestle in the grass. Castiel and Sammie were winning easily, being bigger and stronger by blood, but Jody was giving it her all to come out on top. Dean had simply given up and was clinging to Sammie's back like a monkey. Bowie was circling the group, black and white tail twirling like a helicopter as he barked, his excitement growing by the minute.

Yeah, they were fine. Sam pointed a finger at Bowie, instructing the dog to keep an eye on them, and headed inside to dipkiss his wife, simply because he felt that she deserved it today.

The group waited until Sam and Eileen were too busy gazing into each other's eyes to notice much else, before they untangled themselves from their pile and pulled away. Cheekily, Sammie fished around in his pockets to produce, with pride, a jingling keychain. Dean stared.

Jody stopped petting Bowie for a moment to look up. "Are those...."

"Our dad's car keys, yes." Castiel said, expertly snatching the keys from Sammie's hand and tossing them around a little. "I got my licence yesterday! Figured we could take a little trip."

Dean chewed his lip thoughtfully. On one hand, a drive might be nice. On the other.... “I think Mum and dad might not like the idea.”

The Winchester family had a thing about travel, road trips in particular. For Jody’s twelfth birthday she’d wanted to travel to see some special museum or library– Dean couldn’t remember– and they’d driven the whole way. That day had ended with a dead body in the road and a vampire chasing their car while Eileen shot at it from the passenger window.

A frown flickered across Jody’s features as she shared the memory. She lay back in the grass, ruffling Bowie's ears in consideration. "Yeah, sorry guys. I don't think we'll be allowed."

Sammie stood up and stretched, cracking his knuckles. "Don't you worry." He said deviously, yanking Castiel up beside him. "Nobody can say no to the ol' Fitzgerald charm."

Dean and Jody watched incredulously as the twins sauntered into the house to intercept Sam and Eileen as the prepared the replacement cake. Raising an eyebrow, Jody turned to Dean. "The Fitzgeralds don't _have_ any charm."

"Yeah, I know. But dad's a sucker for them." Dean responded. He watched through the kitchen window as Sammie and Castiel begged Sam to be allowed on the drive, while Sam signed the conversation for Eileen's benefit. Eileen herself was looking wary, but she didn't seem to be saying no.

After a minute of consideration Sam's shoulders dropped and he smiled, nodding. Sammie punched the air in victory and rocketed outside, almost tripping over the doorstep in his excitement. Castiel followed behind him, at a regular pace, though he looked equally pleased– though that may have been due to the plates of cake in his hands. Behind them, Eileen poked her head around the door.

"Be back by evening!" She called. "Take some weapons, call if you need to be picked up!"

"Sure thing, Mrs Winchester." Castiel passed out the cake, and the four of them dashed around the house to get to Garth Fitzgerald's car, an elderly Ford covered in dings and scratches. There was a jostle for the passenger seat, quickly resolved by Dean pulling the birthday card, and the group buckled in.

Even Bowie.

"Woah, hang on." Castiel twisted in the drivers' seat, narrowing his eyes at the border collie stretching across Jody and Sammie's laps. "No dogs in the car."

Jody and Dean met each other's eyes, a quick, fleeting glance that confirmed they were both thinking of the same handful of werewolf jokes. Jokes that could not be said out loud, if they wanted to avoid a lecture on racism.

As if by magic, Sam appeared at the window. "The dog goes with you." He said. "Garth's not going to mind."

Castiel rolled his eyes and Jody whooped, adjusting herself to make a safe space for Bowie to sit, and then they were off, tearing out of the street and onto the main road with all the grace and dignity of a teenager with a fresh licence, old rock songs blaring from the open windows.

They drove, peeling off the highway and onto a secluded, woody road. Trees overshadowed the path, the sound of the other cars fading as they continued. Jody had her faced pressed to the window, watching the forest pass in a blur. Beside her, Bowie whined softly and rested his chin on Sammie's leg. They'd been driving for a while now, and everyone, including Bowie, was starting to feel a little carsick from Castiel's sharp steering and the cake.

"Where are we even going?" Dean asked, flicking the volume dial to be heard. Castiel, an expression of intense concentration on his face, didn't respond, but Sammie leaned his head between the two front seats to share his input with a dark, serious look in his eyes.

"There's this ritual that young werewolves must complete before being accepted into the pack. " He said solemnly. "We need to bring a human each to the ceremonial forest circle, and eat their hearts under the light of the dying sun."

Jody gasped audibly. Dean, too, was barely holding his composure. He could see Jody's fingers inching towards the silver knife she had stashed under the seat.

Sammie managed to keep it together for another beat before he dissolved into laughter. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Put the knives away. I don't know whether to be impressed by my own acting skills or offended you'd think we could have faked our friendship for five years."

"Be impressed with your acting skills." Dean suggested, feeling a twinge of guilt. Now that he thought about it, he didn't think Sammie could hurt a living person even if he had to. He was just that kind. "You're my best friend man, but you're a damn good liar. So where are we really going?"

"There's a cool bar at the end of this road." Sammie said energetically. "It's run by dad's old pack, so you two should be allowed in as long as you don't start pulling knives or telling people you're underage–"

"Woah!" Castiel yanked the wheel, sending the car fishtailing. Jody slammed against the door with a yelp and Dean screamed, grabbing the sides of his seat to stay upright.

In front of them, a beautiful tan bullmastiff dog stood in the road, hackles raised. Groggy, Bowie stuck his head out the window to snarl at it, and it took off running into the forest with an answering growl.

The group sat, hearts pounding, as the smell of burnt rubber started to fade. A little shaky, Castiel turned to check if everyone was okay. Aside from a bruise quickly forming on Jody's forehead and blood where Sammie had bitten through his lip, everyone was fine.

"What. The hell. Was that." Dean breathed. His hands were trembling, fingers locked into the sides of the seat, refusing to unclench against the adrenaline.

Castiel pushed the car door open and got out, leaning on the car for support. "A dog." He said warily. "Must be a stray, maybe we should–"

He screamed and disappeared from view as a pack of dogs thundered across the road, barking and yelping. A stream of heavy paws slammed against the hood of the car, barely registering its presence.

After the river of dogs ended there was complete silence, only broken by Castiel grunting and struggling to pull himself up off the road. He was covered in dirt and scratches, muddy pawprints decorating his hoodie. "Now that," he wheezed, "was weird. That was weird, right?"

"Right." Jody swung out of the car, allowing Bowie to sniff around the trail. "And what do our parents say about weird things?"

As one, they chorused the infamous motto their retired hunter families had taught them since they first learned to write: "Defend and run."

Castiel climbed stiffly back in the car, but not to keep driving. Instead he parked it by the side of the road, and after packing weapons and supplies into their jackets and belts, the group darted into the woods to follow the path of trampled ferns and kicked up grass the dogs had left behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

Bowie took the lead as the forest grew denser. There were no sounds save for the crunch of leaf litter underfoot, and the group's stifled panting. Their parents had given them basic training, but the basics hadn't included a forest hike in the middle of summer. Maybe it should have. Dean made a mental note to inform Sam and Eileen of this later.

Bowie stopped walking so abruptly that Sammie tripped over him, saved from eating the dirt by Jody yanking him back by the back of his shirt.

Despite having just been trodden on, Bowie didn't seem upset at Sammie. His tail lowered and hackles raised, whining softly. He backed up a few steps, bracing himself under Jody, who gave him a reassuring rub. "What's wrong, boy?" She asked softly. "What's the matter?"

Castiel lifted his head, lashes feathered over his eyes. The forest was quiet. Very quiet. He opened his mouth slightly to inhale, taking in the scents around them.

"Got anything?" Sammie murmured, too quiet for the Winchesters to hear. Frustrated, Castiel shook his head. There was nothing around, but no way would the dog be acting out like this if he didn't think there was a reason.

Confused and faintly unsettled, Dean took a hesitant step forward– and promptly vanished from sight.

"Dean!" Shoes skidded on the leaves as Jody and Sammie raced forward, only to be pulled back by Castiel.

"Just hang on, you morons, or you'll get yourselves killed." He said roughly. "Dean! Dean, are you alright?"

For a moment, a tense, suffocating moment, there was no response. Then, Dean started to scream.

"Get me out of here! I'm down here! Oh my god, get me out!"

This time all three of the kids lunged forward, shoving leaves aside, digging to find Dean as he wailed. Bowie ran in circles around them, barking and whimpering anxiously.

A pitfall trap. He'd fallen into a pitfall trap, of all things. It had to have been a ten foot drop, easy. Dean couldn't stop screaming, hands wrapped around his injured ankle, but the pain wasn't the source of his distress.

In front of him, suctioned into the mud, was the torn-apart body of a woman. Her glassy eyes were wide and staring up at the leafy roof above them, limbs strewn haphazardly, and the stink of her blood seeped and crawled into Dean's clothes. He felt he would never be able to escape it.

"Dean, grab on!" Sammie swung down suddenly, hanging upside down. Above, Dean could see Castiel and Jody holding his legs, peering down at them anxiously.

With a last, terrified glance at the dead woman, Dean struggled to his feet and wrapped his arms around Sammie's chest, making sure he was properly holding on before Castiel and Jody started pulling them back up.

\--

Castiel made a few phone calls when they reached the car, and within ten minutes the forest was swarming with police and paramedics. 

Jody, Sammie, and Castiel were ushered to the back of an ambulance and wrapped in shock blankets while Dean was placed on a stretcher so they could get a good look at his ankle. After determining it as a sprain, they wrapped it in bandages and gave him some ice.

Their families arrived then, all in Sam's car. Before he'd even parked Gertie Fitzgerald all but threw herself from the car, ducking and weaving past officers trying to catch her with inhuman ability. Barely checking that her brothers were okay she tackled them, cuddling them close despite the fact that they were both almost taller than her now.

Sam didn't go to check on his kids first. Rather, he let Eileen, Garth, and Bess hurry to them while he flashed a fake ID to the sheriff and moved to inspect the body the officers were carrying out of the trees. Dean couldn't hear the conversation, but he could see Sam shaking his head bitterly.

"I'm going to kill the pair of you." Eileen snapped, storming over to the ambulance. Jody at least had the good sense to duck her head, but Dean simply curled his lip, ready to defend his actions.

Garth and Bess stalked up only a second later, slower to appear human. Bess was growling. Garth just looked disappointed in his sons, but wrapped the whole family up in a hug anyway. "How did a birthday drive end up in a body and the Winchester kids looking like they went two rounds with a wraith?" He mused. Sammie and Castiel, of course, had completely healed from their bruises and scrapes. Both looked slightly guilty about this, darting glances to Jody and Dean.

Dean smiled back reassuringly, despite the fact that Eileen was now ranting in a mix of English and sign to properly get her point across. His smile, however, slipped when Sam started to walk over, a truly thunderous expression on his face. 

"Oh, no." Castiel said mildly, right before Sam descended on them with the barely-concealed fury of an ex-hunter.

"That woman over there," He snapped, "is missing her heart."

Garth moved in front of his kids, rising to the unspoken challenge immediately. "Sam–"

"So it's a coincidence that we have two werewolf kids on the scene of a woman missing her heart, is that it?"

"How _dare_ you?" Bess snarled, loud enough to draw attention. Once they twigged that this was more of a family dispute than a civilian threatening an FBI agent, everyone carried on with their policework. Bess lowered her voice, though the rage was still evident. "Besides, it was _your_ son who found the body, not mine. This has nothing to do with them!"

"Yeah, we're vegan! Animal hearts only!" Sammie spoke up, but he fell silent when Castiel elbowed him in the ribs. Paramedics and officers were starting to look up now, confused.

Noticing this, Sam rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat. "Dean, Jody, get in the car. Now."

"You two. Same deal." Garth said hesitantly, glancing at Sam. Discipline wasn't his strong suite, but he wanted to try and match Sam's tone.

The two families split and drifted away, directing their respective children into their cars without sparing so much as a backwards glance.

"They'll cool down, Jodes." Dean muttered, buckling Bowie into his harness. "Dad's just a bit touchy, that's all. He was scared for us."

"I know." Jody responded. She leaned over to watch through the windscreen as Sam and Eileen spoke to the paramedics, making sure it was all clear for them to take their kids home. "I just hope they make up soon. I've never seen dad this angry at the Fitzgeralds before."

Dean just nodded. He knew why Sam was so emotional, of course. Jody did too; she must have forgotten.

Every year around Dean's birthday, Sam was sensitive and brittle. It lasted a week, usually, and this year Dean had been counting the days. 

Now, not counting today, it was two days until the anniversary of Uncle Dean's death.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey Cas. I don't... I don't know if you can hear me." Sam murmured. He didn't pray like a normal person, kneeling or clasping his hands. He tended to pray like he was leaving a voicemail. 

Dean had been keeping track since finding out the truth about why his father had retired, and what had happened to the original Dean and Cas. Sam prayed like this on Dean's death anniversary every year, and sometimes on birthdays. Usually, his prayers were directed at Cas. Often to Jack, who seemed to be a son he hadn't told the kids about. Sometimes to Dean, though Sam seemed to have decided a while ago that prayers to Dean were less likely to be heard. 

"It's been a really long time." Sam continued softly. "I just wanted to check in, see how you're doing. How Dean's doing. I know he got back to you as soon as he arrived up there."

Sam was in his room, reviewing his notes for a case. A real case, a normal case as a lawyer. A damn good lawyer, too. Dean and Jody crouched outside, listening, just like they did every year. And just like every year, just like for a normal man, Sam's prayers went unanswered.

Still, he would not be deterred. "Anyway, I... I just needed to ask for some advice. Dean and Jody got involved in something a few days ago. Something _supernatural_. I said some things I shouldn't have to Garth, and I don't know how to apologise to him. I was just so scared, for all of them. We– Dean and I– We were betrayed by monsters we trusted when we were young, and I'm so worried that it will happen to them too."

Dean pulled a face, bemused. The idea of Sammie and Castiel betraying them, hurting them, was almost comical. But, he supposed, Sam was allowed to be distrusting this week. Only this week, though, he'd make sure his dad apologised to the Fitzgeralds later.

"Anyway." Sam shuffled his papers, searching for a specific document he'd misplaced. "I just wanted to check in, let you know that I love you and I miss you. Dean too. Especially Dean." He gave a dry laugh that sounded more like a sob. "I wish he was here, all the time. I think the kids would like him. They'd like you, too. Miss you both."

He fell silent after that, and Dean and Jody crawled away quickly before they could be noticed.

They slid out into the backyard, shutting the door quietly behind them, and turned to face Sammie and Castiel as they dropped over the back fence in utmost silence. With a quick signal, the four converged in the grass, heads bent together.

"Okay." Jody said, whipping a notebook out of her shirt. "Dad definitely thinks what happened with the dogs was something spooky."

"Which means he'll definitely try to convince us it was normal." Dean mused. "He's worried you two will betray us, by the way."

"Cool." Sammie seemed unfazed by this. "I call dibs on Dean."

"Dude, you joke about eating my heart way too often for my liking." Dean leaned over, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes, and pointed at Jody's sketch of the pitfall trap. "This end was elevated a little, like a hill. And there was a tree root sticking out, right here. And here."

Jody hummed quietly, making the necessary adjustments. "Okay, cool. Is that better?"

Next to her, Castiel sat back on his heels and raked a hand through his blonde curls. "Are we going to keep playing detective like children, or are we actually going to go and find out more about the vic?"

The others looked taken aback for a moment, before Dean started to laugh. He stopped, though, at Castiel's sour expression. "Oh, you're serious."

"Of course I'm serious. Your dad thinks we're murderers!"

Wincing, Jody placed a hand on Castiel's arm reassuringly. "He didn't mean it. We're not hunters, Castiel, we can't just _'go and find out'_ like the other hunters can. We're too young to pass as Suits." She paused, considering. "I do have a plan though. Do you trust me?"

Maybe it was her words, or the slightly patronising tone, but Castiel didn't really look calmer. He shrugged and jammed his hands in his pockets.

"Sure." He said. "I'll drive."

\---

"Aren't you four a little too young involved in something like this?" The deputy at the front desk asked suspiciously.

Dean shook his head rapidly, repeatedly. He, along with the other three, was wearing a formal suit with his hair slicked back, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. "It's not like we're FBI agents or anything, we just want to know how the family's doing."

"We're the ones who found her." Jody added. "Well, my brother found her. Anyway, it was awful, and we just want to know if the family's okay. We brought flowers."

Helplessly, all four of them held up their bouquets and the deputy narrowed her eyes. Yeah, now that she thought about, she did recognise this kid on the crutches. And peering around him, she recognised the girl with the ponytail and the two identical boys, too. This was definitely the group that had found the woman.

She leaned back in his chair and adjusted her hat. "Sure. I'll send them your number. If they're comfortable meeting up with you, they'll call. How's that sound?"

"That's really good, thank you ma'am." Castiel plucked a flower from his bouquet and handed it to the deputy, who promptly slipped it behind her ear and waved as they headed back to the car.

They'd barely pulled out onto the main road when Castiel's phone starting ringing insistently. Jody, in the passenger seat, fished it from his pocket and signalled for silence.

She listened for a moment, and nodded. "Yeah, you have the right number... We're available today, sure!" She flashed a grin to the boys and pulled out her notebook. "Alright, could you repeat that address please?"

Twenty minutes later, the rickety car pulled up in the Hoatzin family's driveway. Three people were standing outside, dressed as though they'd just gotten back from a funeral. 

"What's our plan, exactly?" Dean questioned, adjusting his tie. "How are we going to approach this?"

Castiel looked at him strangely, throwing the car into park. "We're going to approach this like a normal group of slightly traumatised teenagers? There's no need for lying here,"

The four of them climbed out of the car and walked– or in Dean's case, limped– towards the family. An elderly man and woman and a younger man. Parents and son, maybe. Adjusting his crutches, Dean reached out a hand to shake the young man's as he walked forward.

"Mitch Hoatzin." The young man said. "You must be... Castiel?"

"I'm Castiel." Castiel spoke up. "This is Dean, Jody, and Sammie. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Teresa Hoatzin." The elderly woman came over to shake their hands too, and gestured to the older man. "This is my husband, Richard. You're the kids who– who found–"

She broke off, taking a shaky breath, and Jody scuffed her foot in the dirt anxiously. Maybe coming had been a bad idea. The people were _grieving_ , for god's sake. But they seemed almost relieved to see the group, and invited them all inside for coffee.

As they walked in single file, listening to Mitch talk about his dead sister, Jody spied a framed photo on the mantlepiece. The woman, the dead woman, was smiling at the camera, holding two kids in her arms. One seemed to be a toddler, the other, a baby. Quickly, Jody swiped the photo and stuffed it into her jacket.

Dean tilted his head at her as she came into the dining room with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry." She said. "I saw those Ikea catalogues on your coffee table and got distracted."

The Hoatzin family were too busy pouring coffee and sniffling to really notice, and Jody took a seat next to Dean, who was reaching over to rest a hand on Mitch's shoulder. "We're really sorry for your loss." He said. Across the table, Teresa gave a broken, sad laugh, and dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

"Thank you, dear." She said, adding a couple sugar cubes to the coffee and passing it to Dean. "It means a lot that you wanted to come and meet with us. Without you, Maggie would still be missing."

Castiel's eyes sparked a little and he leaned forward intently. "She was missing? For how long?"

"About five days." Richard said gruffly. He was stirring his tea with a spoon, but didn't seem to have any intention of drinking it. "She used to take off all the time, but usually a night in our grandkids would call to let us know she'd left them again."

"They didn't call this time?" Sammie prompted, and Terese shook her head, covering her mouth to stifle a sob.

"No–No. They're missing too! The police searched the whole forest, but couldn't find them anywhere!"

Dean and Jody exchanged a glance, scooting their chairs out slightly so they could see each other's hands.

"That's messed up, right?" Dean signed, inclining his head towards the family. Teresa was sobbing into her husbands chest while he apologised to the uncomfortable twins. Mitch had his arms folded, a stony expression on his face, and it was this that Dean was gesturing to. "What's with him? Think he had something to do with it?"

"No idea." Jody paused to take a sip of her coffee, watching Castiel and Teresa walk away together to find vases for the bouquets. "Maybe he's just reacting in his own way. I mean, his sister was murdered, after all. He's allowed to be as sad or angry as he wants."

"I guess so. I don't trust it, though. Sammie, thoughts?" Dean turned away from Jody, letting her take a turn in the verbal conversation. Mitch and Richard were talking about Maggie's children now, with a mix of fondness and despair. Jody seamlessly inserted herself into the topic.

Sammie shrugged, disguising the movement by scratching his nose. "I don't know, man. I think we should go home. Mum and dad are out, we'll have the house to ourselves. Thoughts?"

Jody elbowed Dean in the ribs and made an 'OK' gesture. She wanted to analyse the photo she'd lifted, find out as much as she could.

So, after a tearful goodbye and promises of contact, Dean, Jody, Sammie, and Castiel drove off. The Fitzgerald house, with its werewolf-safe and anti-hunter reputation, was the perfect place to start their investigation.


	5. Chapter 5

"Alright." Jody chewed the end of her pencil. "What else do we know about this?"

Since Jody was the one who did all the planning for group outings, and was the only one who carried her own stationary, it was only natural that she take charge. On Sammie's desk, notes from their morning at the Hoatzin's were spread out, along with the photo of Maggie and her kids, and another photo of the Hoatzin house for flavour. Sammie's posters of various horror movies and folk singers had been covered up by sticky notes and cork boards, decorated with the theories and random ideas they'd come up with over the past few days.

Sammie sat on the bed with his laptop. "It's so hard to find information nowadays." He muttered darkly. "Everything I search is attached to some series or movie franchise or video game. There's no set lore anywhere anymore."

Jody examined the notes, steepling her fingers against her lips. "Doesn't matter. We know werewolves eat hearts, so it must be a werewolf."

On the other end of the bed, Dean hummed quietly. Something was rubbing him the wrong way about this, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "What does this have to do with those dogs though? Werewolves don't control dogs." A pause. "Do they?"

Sammie and Castiel shook their heads. If werewolves had any significant influence over the actions of dogs, they'd have known by now. "Maybe it was a coincidence." Castiel suggested helplessly.

Having no better ideas, Jody marked the dog pack down as _'coincidence??'_ and moved the papers aside. Blowing out a lungful of air, she dropped her head in her hands. "This always seemed so much easier in the stories." She popped the end of the pencil between her teeth, rolling it around thoughtfully. "Look up the kids. Um... Debra and Oscar Hoatzin."

For a moment the only sound in the room was Sammie's fingers flying over the keyboard. Then he stopped. "Oh my god."

Tasks were abandoned as the others flocked to Sammie's side, crowding around to get a better look at the screen. Dean's expression turned grim. "Still think it was a coincidence, Tiel?"

Having clicked a link for Debbie Hoatzin, Sammie had been taken to a photo on Maggie's Facebook page. In the photo, Debbie was grinning, cuddling a big, happy dog.

The same tan mastiff from the road.

\--

The Hoatzin family had never seen the dog in their lives. When pressed, Mitch simply shook his head and shrugged. "We had Christmas at her house last year." He said irritably. "If there was a giant dog roaming around, we would've known about it."

So, the next stop was the local dog shelter. The best actor of them all, Sammie approached the receptionist in tears, holding up a photo of the mastiff while Castiel, Dean, and Jody trailed behind, doing their best to look depressed and scared.

The receptionist, when faced with four distressed teens and a photo of a dog, melted. "Of course, honey, let's see if we have him." She stood up and put her arm around Sammie, gently steering him into a backyard full of cages.

Immediately, the dogs erupted in howls and barks, reacting fiercely to Sammie and Castiel. Jody squeezed their hands quickly as they walked, a reassurance. 

They lapped the yard twice, and the receptionist even searched through the files for any dogs that were out on walks or had been recently adopted. But unfortunately, nothing came up. 

Sammie crumpled, tears spilling over his eyelids and a sob building in his throat as the recptionist apologised, near tears herself. Frowning, Castiel grabbed Jody by the sleeve and tugged her closer.

"I recognised one of those dogs back there." He muttered lowly. "The three-legged heeler. It was part of the pack the other day. I know it."

"You're sure?" Jody hissed. "We can't afford to make mistakes–"

It was too late. Castiel had already slammed together a plan, and once he had made a decision, it was nearly impossible to change his mind. "Excuse me!" He called, hurrying forward. "Excuse me, I'd like to ask about this dog over here...."

An hour and a half later, the group found themselves parked in a fastfood outlet's carpark to examine their prize. The heeler, quickly dubbed Roadtrip against Jody's protests, sat in the backseat and looked out the window in silence.

Dean watched her for a few beats, brow furrowed. "Castiel, I'm going to end you. Why did you talk us into this?"

"Because you let me." Castiel twisted around in the drivers' seat and reached out to pat the dog, who didn't react. "This dog was part of that pack. I doubt there's many three-legged blue heelers in the area, that's not exactly a common combination."

Jody shrugged and turned to point a finger into Roadtrip’s nose. “Alright, dog. What do you know?”

Roadtrip opened her mouth. The group leaned in.

She sneezed.

Dean erupted in laughter. “Did we actually think she was going to talk to us?” He wheezed. “She’s a dog, she can’t talk!”

“I’m sure some hunter somewhere has met a talking animal before.” Sammie said, but he was giggling too.

After a few minutes the laughter subsided and Castiel cleared his throat. "Real talk, though, what are we going to do with her? She's our only real evidence."

"I mean, dad's a sucker for dogs." Jody said with a shrug. "He'll probably let us keep her."

Sam, as it turned out, was not thrilled about the addition of a second dog. Perhaps this was partly due to the fact that Dean and Jody hadn't knocked before they'd burst into his study with the good news.

"Kids." He said, with the sort of calm that let them know he wasn't happy. "I'm in the middle of a session."

The hunter sitting on the couch across from him waved her hand with a terse smile. As well as completing his law degree, Sam and Eileen had also made the decision to work towards a psychology degree together. While their side job as a therapists for the hunter community didn't pay well and hurt badly sometimes, they'd both had the realisation years ago that if hunters didn't have therapists they could talk to, truthfully and openly, they'd all snap like dry twigs.

"Sure dad." Dean said, backing out quickly. "This can wait, I promise."

Evidently, it couldn't. Roadtrip squirmed herself free from her makeshift collar and charged into the room, quickly followed by a very excited Bowie. Sam sighed and stood up.

"Sorry Claire, I'm going to cut our session short." He said, moving to catch a vase knocked over by Bowie's whirlwind tail. "I have a free slot on Friday if you'd like to take it."

Claire stood up and shook herself out, swiping a hand across her face to catch any tears. "That sounds good, Sam. Thanks."

They hugged, a long, familial hug, and Claire left with a warm smile at Dean and Jody. 

For a moment Sam and his children simply surveyed the chaos in the office; Bowie and Roadtrip had grabbed a couch cushion and were playing tug of war with it. Already, cotton was spilling from splitting seams.

"Alright." Sam said finally, placing his hands on his hips. "You two have some explaining to do."


	6. Chapter 6

Roadtrip and Bowie ended up being the best of friends. They chased the tennis ball together, played together, ate only when the other was eating, and cuddled together at night no matter the whether. It was kind of sweet, really.

"I wonder what happened to her leg." Eileen mused over dinner one night, watching Roadtrip kick in her sleep, irritating Bowie. "Where'd you say you found her again?"

"Side of the road," Jody said, at the same moment Dean said, "Tied to a fence with a note."

"Obviously," Dean amended quickly before Jody could beat him to it, "we mean she was tied to a fence post by the side of the road with a note."

Eileen and Sam didn't look entirely convinced, but there wasn't much they could say about it. After all, what proof did they have of anything other than a vague, suspicious feeling?

As well as being best buddies and the protectors of the house, Roadtrip and Bowie also ran undercover lives as Dean and Jody's hunting dogs– though Roadtrip hadn't been useful in regards to uncovering her own history, they'd found that she was extremely intelligent and a fast learner. This is why, when Sammie called and asked the Winchester kids to come over _now_ , the dogs had accompanied.

Garth, Bessie, and Gertie were out again. "Just Sammie and me today." Castiel said, shutting the door behind them. "Go to the Crime Room, I'll meet you there in a bit."

The Crime Room, of course, was Sammie's room. He was lying on the carpet when Jody and Dean walked in, poring over a newspaper propped up in front him. He looked up as the Winchesters walked in, and his smile was like the sun coming out. "Hey guys!" He said cheerily, before repeating his greeting as the dogs bolted into the room.

"Oop." Dean reached out and collared Bowie before he could scatter the piles of paper on the floor. "So, what did you find? What was so important that we had to walk all the way here?"

"Here, this– Oh, sweet, Tiel, thanks." Sammie tugged the others down, nabbing a cookie off the plate Castiel had walked in with. Almost inhaling it, he spread out his selection of newspapers and pointed. "There, see? Look!"

The newspaper article he was referring to featured a picture of two toddlers wrapped in towels, staring up at the camera in distress. Jody exhaled loudly. "Debra and Oscar Hoatzin."

"Should we do anything? I mean, they're witnesses." Sammie pointed out. "Sure they're... two and four years old, but they're definitely witnesses. We should talk to them."

Jody studied the picture, tilting her head to one side. "Alright. How hard could this be?"

\---

Castiel had called ahead, so the Hoatzin family wasn't too surprised to see the four of them, plus the two dogs, arrive at the house. Teresa ushered them inside and sat them on the couch, where the two kids were watching cartoons.

"I'm so glad to see you off your crutches, Dean. Mitch will be happy to know, too." Richard piped up from the kitchen. Dean only managed a small smile in response. His attention was completely focused on Debra, who was completely ignoring all of them. Gently, he lowered himself to the ground next to her.

"Hi." He said. Debra ignored him, completely focused on her cartoons. Dean inched closer.

Finally, Debra looked up. Her intense stare sent a shiver up Dean's spine. Then she looked away, towards Roadtrip as the dog padded over. A smile flickered across Debra's features. "Hello." She rasped.

Castiel, Sammie, and Jody instantly sat up. All four of them watched as Debra patted Roadtrip, stood up, and followed her to the front door. 

Richard and Teresa were still in the kitchen together, oblivious. The group watched anxiously as Debra reached up and grabbed the door handle, pulling it open with all her toddler strength.

"Hey, kiddo, I don't think you should be going outside." Sammie said anxiously, climbing over the back of the couch. Debra just looked up at him and grinned. A terrible, toothy grin. 

Something wasn't right with her eyes.

The kids could only watch in horror as Debra morphed and melted before their very eyes, her nose extending, her eyes darkening, and her bones shifting into new positions with a sickening crunch. 

It was over in seconds. A small, golden-furred puppy crawled out of Debra's clothes and shook itself, yawning and bouncing on its paws. It touched noses with Roadtrip, and they trotted out into the street together as though they hadn't a care in the world.

"Um." Jody began, only to be silenced by another crunching noise from where Oscar was sitting. Before she could say anything, a much smaller, fluffier golden puppy rocketed out the door and chased after Roadtrip and the Debra-dog. 

They didn't have the instincts and reaction times an experienced hunter would have. By the time the group thought to dash out onto the street to catch the dogs, they were nowhere to be seen.

"Well. That happened." Jody said, roughly.

"Does anyone know how to get out of this _without_ looking like we kidnapped them?" Sammie asked, pointing out the immediate problem. "This is going to look... _really_ suspicious."

"Especially to the hunters." Castiel added.

In the end, nobody had any brilliant, foolproof ideas. Dean wanted to run, and let the dominoes fall where they may, but the others decided against that. It was safer, they decided to help Richard and Terese in the kitchen, playing dumb when the door was found open, and the children nowhere in sight.

The elderly couple were heartbroken, of course, but the police said it was normal. Debra and Oscar were traumatised, they said, nobody knew where they'd been this whole time. It was natural that they'd have some trouble settling. If they weren't back by nightfall, they'd organise a proper search party. In the meantime, it was normal for them to run away. That's what traumatised kids did.

"Would you help us look for them?" Teresa asked, as she pulled on her sneakers. "Please, we need help."

Now _that_ tugged the heartstrings. Dean shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs Hoatzin, we have to get home. We'll keep an eye out on the drive, I promise."

Tears spilled over Teresa's cheeks but she nodded and locked the door behind the group, hurrying over to her own car. "Ricky, honey, call Mitch. We need all the help we can get here."

The kids stood on the doorstep in silence, watching the car pull away and tear down the street. Jody reached down to scratch Bowie behind the ears. "Do you think they'll find Debra and Oscar tonight?"

Castiel crossed his arms. "If we're lucky," he said grimly, "those kids will never be seen again."


	7. Chapter 7

Sam was in court on Wednesday, and Eileen was giving a session in the park to a hunter who had become a wheelchair bound. The house was empty. Open for the taking.

Books were piled high on the coffee table, pages folded, bookmarked, and torn to mark anything of importance. Details had been highlighted, and the passages of almost every book had been annotated. 

The junior hunters, for once, were silent. They were spread out, draped and splayed across every surface, completely absorbed in their research.

Laying across the arm of the couch had put a crick in Dean's back. He stretched, rubbing it, and flicked over to the next page of his monster manual. After a moment of skim reading, he sat up straight and rolled his shoulders. "Guys! I think I found something!"

The others flocked to Dean's side as quickly as they could, with the stretching and the popping of joints and tired, pained groans. "What is it?" Jody yawned. In response Dean flipped the book around to show his friends the pages, jabbing the heading with one excited finger.

Sammie was the one who read it out loud, propping his chin in his hand. "Skinwalker?" He chewed the thought over, and made a face. "Werewolf cousin. That could work!

Jody chewed her lip anxiously, wrenching the book from Dean's hands to scour the pages herself. "There were like, fifteen dogs." She said. "Maybe more. How are we meant to fight that many?"

The only one not jostling for the book was Castiel, who was instead quietly cleaning up the room to erase any trace of their studying. "How we fight them isn't going to matter unless we _find_ them. We need to figure out where they're based."

"Fifteen dogs." Sammie echoed. He whipped out his laptop and started typing, frantically. The others watched on.

"You spend way too much time online, Sammie." Castiel said evenly. "Nobody should be this good at Wikipedia."

"Quiet." Sammie kept clicking, eyes glued to the screen. "Alright, if I get into the backbrain of the police files... Yes! Now, from Debra and Oscar's profiles on the police databank we can find related content; missing persons. Then if we scroll through we can find those that are similar.... Here." He spun the screen to show the group.

Photos. So many photos. Each photoset came in a pair. One was of an adult man or woman with their chest ripped open, in all the graphic detail it meant. The second photo of each set was a child, or an amount of children. At least ten of the photos included a dog in the background or cuddling the children. Three of those photos included a tan mastiff.

One of them included Roadtrip.

Jody snapped her fingers. "Bingo." She stood up and fished her boots out from under the couch. "Now we know for sure that that dog was involved. Get your shoes on guys, we're going out."

"To do what, harass amputees on the street in case one is secretly a dog?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Of course not. You don't think I'd be stupid enough to let you lot adopt a strange dog and _not_ slip a GPS into her food bowl every day?" Jody said snippily. Then for, emphasis, "Moron."

\---

They left a note for Sam and Eileen and left, raiding the weapons safe first. Who knew what they'd be going up against?

Castiel drove while Jody sat in the passenger seat, eyes glued to her phone screen, pointing directions. In the back, Dean and Sammie were cleaning knives and guns, and figuring out the game plan. So far, the game plan included wrapping the handles of the knives in strips of leather and cloth to protect the Fitzgeralds' hands from silver burns. The rest of the plan was feverish and patchy, the source of many erupting arguments in the backseat.

"Here! Here! Stop the car!" Jody shouted abruptly, frightening even herself. Castiel swore and yanked the wheel, flying the car into a perfect parallel park.

In the back, Sammie was yelping. The rough stop had sent a knife bouncing across his arm. It hadn't cut, but it did burn. Dean sucked in a breath and wrapped the wound in a cloth strip, making a makeshift bandage until it healed. "If it works that well on a werewolf," he said, "it should work like this on a skinwalker. Yeah?"

"Yeah, hopefully." Jody wasn't listening. Instead she was focused on a woman with a prosthetic arm, watering her flowerbeds. She kept glancing at the car warily, but seemed to be doing her best to act nonchalant. Narrowing her eyes, Jody made a quick hand gesture, alerting the others to her suspicions.

In one fluid movement the four climbed out of the car and turned to face the woman. "Hey!" Castiel called.

The woman– Roadtrip, definitely– booked it. As she ran her feet turned to paws and she hit the ground in a lopsided run, ears flat against her head.

"After her!" Dean barked. They leaped back in the car and pulled out on the road, building speed before seatbelts were even on.

Somebody yelled. Something smashed into the windshield, leaving a spiderweb crack edged in blood before bouncing off and back onto the road. Castiel swore. "She's getting away!"

"We hit a _person_ , Tiel, forget the dog for a second!" Dean flung himself from the car and scrambled over to the groaning figure on the road. "Hey! Are you alright?"

The man scrambled to his feet, clutching his bloody side. "Get away from me!"

"Mitch?" Sammie asked in disbelief, but Mitch was gone. In his place stood a huge malamute, rippling with muscle under tough, thick fur. It snarled, teeth exposed with aggression.

Sammie and Castiel shoved themselves between the dog and Winchesters, roaring their response as claws and fangs sprouted over ordinary nails and teeth, eyes glowing as though fire had sparked within. This was enough to make Mitch pause.

The werewolves circled him, surrounded him, moving like liquid metal. "We can either do this the easy way, Mitch," Sammie growled.

"Or the hard way." Castiel finished. Without being prompted Dean produced his sets of werewolf-safe silver knives and passed them out.

This was enough for Mitch. He whimpered, growled one more time for good measure, and shifted back into his human form. "Fine." He snapped. "We'll talk. But not here, it's too exposed. Come inside."


	8. Chapter 8

Ordinarily it would have been a bad idea to walk into a known Skinwalker's house without any option of backup. But, armed with their blades, the group felt pretty secure. Not secure enough to take a seat when offered, but still.

Mitch offered them tea. They declined, so he poured himself a cup and stood next to the dining table, unwilling to put himself in a vulnerable position by sitting down. His hands were shaking as he sipped.

“You’ll have to excuse Wanda.” He said warily. “Since coming home she’s been terrified of you hunters tracking her down.”

“Roadtrip.” Jody clarified, noting the faintly confused expression on the boys’ faces. “He’s talking about Roadtrip.”

“So what’s the deal, Mitch?” Dean snapped. “Start talking or this knife goes into your heart.”

Mitch visibly paled and had to sit down. He took another sip of tea. “Alright. Alright. What do you want to know?”

Acting the enigma, Castiel didn’t even turn to face Mitch as he spoke. “Those kids. All of them. Their lives are over because of you.”

Mitch seemed to take offence to this. He started to stand, lips curled, but sat back down quickly when Jody spun her knife. “Their lives aren’t over!” He snapped. “We’re _helping_ those kids. They have a chance at life now!”

Something snapped in Jody. She could feel her face heating, teeth grinding, and slammed her hands on the table. She was almost trembling in her rage. “A chance at life? You’ve sentenced them to death! This many skinwalkers, this many bodies... other hunters will be coming! And you’re the prime suspect now!”

“How could you let them kill your sister?” Dean asked quietly. “Surely you want revenge? Just tell us where your pack is based, and we can help avenge her.”

At this Mitch laughed, a dark cold laugh that sent a shudder running through the hunters. “I killed her myself." Mitch snarled. “And I’d do it again. She neglected those kids, so we took them in. Is that so wrong?”

Was it wrong? The hunters exchanged glances, wary. Sammie poured himself a tea to keep his hands busy, watching the sign language conversation between Jody and Dean. They seemed to be arguing, movements sharp and short.

Mitch seemed to take the silence as a bad sign. He tensed. “Lana turns children who have been abused and kills their parents. The kids eat the hearts to seal the deal. How is that wrong?”

“You’re killing people, Mitch!” Dean shouted, stabbing his knife into the table. Jody covered his mouth with her hand and leaned forward, eyes sparkling with intensity.

“Lana?”

“The tan mastiff.” Mitch said hesitantly. “Our leader."

In the blink of an eye a silver knife was sizzling against Mitch's throat. Castiel's eyes were yellow, glowing with intent. "Tell us where to find her, and you might be able to walk away with your life." He snarled. "We'll help you escape the hunters, if you help us bring Lana down."

\---

They ended up taking Mitch as their prisoner. Nobody had any better ideas on what to do with him. And when they passed Roadtrip– Wanda– on the road, still in the form of a cattle dog, they threatened Mitch with a knife until she hopped in the car to protect him. She stayed in her canine form, though, resting her head on Mitch's thigh as they drove. Every now and then Mitch would call out directions, bitterly.

Squished into the backseat nest to the skinwalkers, Dean and Jody barely had to room to breathe let alone sign. Even so, they managed to free their hands to speak.

"How do we know he's not leading us into a trap?" Jody kept her movements small, turning away from the skinwalkers. "He could be giving us directions off a cliff, or something."

Dean watched the skinwalkers for a moment. Mitch was looking out the window, shoulders hunched. He had a hand on Wanda's head, and was absently rubbing her ears. "I don't know, Jodes." Dean mused. "They look scared to me. We shouldn't trust them, but I think this is fine."

They kept driving, following Mitch's directions like fish on a hook, until he caught a glimpse of the anxious look on Sammie's face and started to laugh. "You're not even real hunters, are you?"

"Shut up, we're in training." Jody snapped. "Are we close?"

“Yeah. Just this next left, end of the street.”

The end of the street kept going on a dirt track, which Mitch pointed them down. Castile wasn’t too happy about this. “This isn’t an all-terrain vehicle.” He complained.

Mitch just shrugged. “Do you want to get there or not? Here! Here! Left here!”

They turned into a driveway concealed by trees and ferns, at the end of which stood a rickety house choked in vines. Castiel parked the car and stared out at it, eyes narrow. The group exited the car in silence, entirely focused on the leering, broken house before them.

Dean held out his hand. “Pass me the silver handcuffs, please, Sammie.”

“What?! We haven’t done anything!” Mitch shouted, and shrieked as Jody slapped the handcuffs on his wrists. Wanda tried to run, but she was grabbed and collared in a silver chain. She yelped, steam and smoke rising from her flesh.

“It’s a precaution.” Jody said, hands on her hips. “Can’t have you running off to warn the pack, can we?”

Mitch howled, a wordless sound of fury and agony, and in the distance an answering howl echoed. Then a second. A third. More and more, until the forest was alive with the sounds of dogs. With a triumphant grin, Mitch watched as the younger three hunters pulled out their knives and stood back to back, scanning the trees warily. Castiel, instead, pressed his knife to Mitch's throat and pulled him into the kill circle, shoving Wanda ahead with his foot.

Out of the shadows stepped a woman. She wasn't wearing any shoes, but the spiky ground didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. Lanky black hair almost concealed her face. She curled her lip and held out a hand, a signal to the unseen forces in the forest. The hunters tensed. The blade bit into Mitch's skin, sending a trickle of sizzling blood to the collar of his shirt. "Lana," he choked.

"We don't want to hurt you." Jody hazarded. 

Lana raised an eyebrow. "You could have fooled me."

Her voice was warm and smooth, like the richest of honey. She circled the group, almost gliding across the ground. "What is it you want?" She crooned. "Why are you holding two of my pack hostage?"

“Why are you kidnapping children and killing their parents?” Sammie countered.

Lana raised her eyebrows and glanced at Mitch, who shook his head minutely. “They wouldn’t listen.” He rasped. “I told them. They didn’t believe me. Please, please, Lana, don’t let them kill me.”

“I won’t. I promise, we’ll get you out of it.” Lana said, a menacing look in her eye as she surveyed the hunters. Then, raising a hand, she barked. “Stand down, everyone. We don’t need to fight, these children are just confused.”

The forest seemed to let out a breath it had been holding. Dogs began to slink from the trees, forming a stream around Lana. She smiled. A genuine, open, desperate smile. “Come on.” She reached out a hand towards the hunters in invitation. “Let me show you our ways.”

Hesitantly, tensely, Dean reached out to take it.


	9. Chapter 9

As Lana led them into the ramshackle house, her dog pack started turning to human, one by one. A lot of them were adults, but most were teenagers or little kids. The Hoatzin kids were wary of the hunters, sticking close to a group of older skinwalkers for protection.

Wanda sidled up during the tour of the first floor, linking her fingers in with Mitch’s. She smiled at Jody, though her eyes were dark. “I liked it when you scratched my temple.” She informed, in a playful tone.

Jody pulled a face. “Good to know.”

Lana directed them down a flight of stairs, into the basement. The hunters stopped, digging in their heels. Panicked, Sammie tried to pull back, testing the boundaries, but the skin walkers shoved him onwards. His theory confirmed, he elbowed Castiel.

“We’re definitely prisoners.” He signed. “Get ready to protect the Winchesters.”

Castile didn’t reply. He only scanned the crowd of skinwalkers as they were herded down the stairs and raised an eyebrow at Sammie. Sammie just shrugged. If they were going to die, they were going down swinging.

“And here’s our den!” Lana announced, when they hit the bottom of the stairs.

The basement was huge, almost half the size of a football field m. It was carpeted, and wallpapered in scenes of nature. The back was full of bedding, the rest housed a small kitchen and loungeroom. The pack began to drift, chattering amongst themselves as they headed to relax on couches, watch TV, or read. Dean watched one skinwalker take the youngest toddlers to the bedding corner.

“It’s...” Jody began, frowning. “It’s lovely in here.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Wanda and Mitch didn’t stick around. They shifted into dogs and took off, nipping playfully at each other’s ears and tails.

Lana watched with a small smile, before beckoning the hunters forward. “Come.” She said eagerly. “I’ll prove to you that we’re harmless. We deserve to live in peace.”

She took them to the bedding corner and procured two babies, who she passed to Sammie and Dean. Dean bounced the baby in his arms experimentally, and it made a gleeful burbling noise. Despite his misgivings, Dean had to smile.

“These are Tabitha and Tamina Williams.” Lana explained. “One of my scouts was put in their house. He witnessed their father throw their older brother against a wall when he was angry. The boy was only a year old.”

The hunters didn’t say anything, but looked at the babies in a new light. The one in Sammie’s arms was holding his finger with a tiny fist. Sammie seemed a little choked up. “So you... you kidnapped them?” He asked, but there was no vein in his tone. 

“If we hadn’t, they would have befallen the same fate as their brother.” Lana said. “Now they live here as human children, until they’re old enough to make the decision to become part of the pack. Twelve.”

“Twelve.” Jody echoed. Absently, forgetting every dog here was a sentient human, she picked up a little terrier and held it against her chest. “You let them choose? What about the Hoatzin kids?”

Lana chewed her lip thoughtfully and glanced over at the dining table, where Mitch, in malamute form, was playing with two golden puppies. “Special case.” She said reluctantly. “Mitch appointed himself as their guardian and made the choice for them. I wasn’t happy about it, but there’s not much I can do now but raise them properly.”

Sammie and Dean handed the babies back, wary. Cooing softly, Lana placed them back in their cribs. Still not entirely convinced, Castiel shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Why not just let human authorities take care of it? Let the kids be put in foster care, live normal lives.”

The expression on Lana’s face turned sour. She tucked the babies in tighter, planting a kiss on their heads. “I was in the foster system. It was truly awful for me, and for people with disabilities, it can be downright torturous. I’ll never let these kids go through that.” She snarled quietly for emphasis and dragged an arm across her eyes to stem the tears. Her shoulders were trembling with distress.

Before Dean could think of anything reassuring to saw, a collie dog flew down the stairs. It barked twice as it moved, shifting to human by the time it reached the basement floor. “Lana! Hunters!”

“They’re guests, Brick.” Lana responded, with a sharp glare at Castiel’s raised knife. “They won’t hurt us, and we won’t hurt them.”

Brick shook their head fervently, shaking off the last of the dog hair. “No, not them! Real hunters! At least four of them, outside. Two of them smell like werewolves.”

Jody found herself holding Dean’s hand tightly, though whether she was relieved or afraid she didn’t know. Across from them, Castiel and Sammie had already shifted, claws at the ready in case they needed to fight. Noticing this, Brick snarled and shifted back into collie form.

Shaking with adrenaline, Lana let out a piercing whistle. “Hunters breaching the territory! Hide the children, take the junior hunters to the cellar. Everyone else on me for an orderly retreat!”

“Wait, what?” Dean exploded. Someone grabbed his elbow and he smacked them off. “Those are probably our parents! Let us talk to them, we can work this out—“ 

“No can do.” Lana snapped. “Hunters only come in groups when they want blood. And you _led_ them here. Someone get these juniors out of here!”

They tried to run. More hands moved to grab the Winchesters and the Fitzgeralds, so many hands that they couldn’t fight them all. Their weapons were torn away from them, punches and kicks were exchanged. At one point Sammie tried to pull away and found himself curled up on the floor, convulsing as someone slammed a boot into his ribs. Then he was hauled up again and dragged, unable to get a grip on the floor, and tossed down a trapdoor which slammed shut behind him.

Castiel, Dean, and Jody were already down there. They hadn’t tried as hard to fight, they hadn’t had their journey stopped and been beaten to make a point. With a scream of rage Castiel bundled his brother in his arms and slammed a fist into the trapdoor, which clanked as though someone had wrapped the handles in chains.

“Sammie? Sammie!” The Winchesters staggered over, cursing the ceiling which was barely tall enough to stand under. They looked on anxiously, but the bruises on Sammie’s arms and sides were already fading.

“He’s alright.” Castiel said gruffly, burying his face in Sammie’s hair. “He’s just unconscious. He’ll be fine.”

Unable to break the door keeping them here, all the kids could do was sit and listen as the skinwalkers above prepared for a fight. A fight which not all of them would walk away from.


	10. Chapter 10

After the death of his brother, Sam Winchester had never wanted to hunt again. In his own opinion he’d done well for himself. He’d married Eileen, had two kids and a dog, lived an apple pie life just like he’d always wanted. Why would he ever want to go back to hunting?

And yet here he was, pulling a car up into the driveway of a house that definitely looked haunted. Garth’s car was already there, which confirmed what the Find My Friends phone app had told them: the kids were here, and had been for a while. 

Garth inhaled deeply, eyes flashing a neon yellow as he growled. “We definitely got company here, Sam.”

"Stay in the car, everyone." Eileen opened the door, letting Bowie out. The dog planted his paws firmly on the packed dirt and whined, ears flicking back. He wasn't happy here. It smelled of other dogs, weird dogs. He jumped up at the car, asking for comfort. Humming softly under her breath, Bess pulled him up onto her seat. He'd have to stay here, just in case things got violent. The Winchesters cared too much about Bowie to put him at risk.

As one, as though in a practised movement, the four of them hopped out onto the dirt path, guns raised in defence position.

The house was still, casting deep shadows in the dying sunlight. The only sounds were the hunters' own breathing, and dirt and stones crunching underfoot. 

Garth and Bess took up the rear, focusing all their senses on the house. A lot of people had walked through here, very recently. In fact, they were still here. But where? It was as though the entire house was holding its breath, waiting in terrified anticipation for what was about to happen.

Something moved in the shadows and Sam yelled, firing a warning shot that echoed through the house like an explosion.

Like demons ascending from hell dogs swarmed the room, throwing themselves at the hunters with such rage and in such numbers that they were forced to pull back, shooting at random, shoving dogs away with hands and elbows, feet and knees. Not a single bite was landed amongst the scratches and bruises– this was an intent to kill, not to turn.

Separated, isolated, driven apart. Garth and Bess found themselves alone in the writhing mess of dogs, slicing and carving and roaring. These werewolves were okay to bite. A werewolf could not be turned. It was only a matter of time before Garth was down, swallowed by the sea.

Sam swore and fired off a couple rounds in Garth's general direction, but as quickly as the dogs fell, more came. He couldn't shoot anymore– if a silver bullet hit Garth by accident, the results could be catastrophic.

In a room barely big enough to walk around in, in a hole under the basement, four teenagers struggled to escape. They could hear the sounds of battle raging upstairs. They could hear somebody screaming.

Dean and Jody won't strong enough to break the chains keeping the door closed, and every time Sammie and Castiel managed to make the trapdoors slam the silver burned their fingers.

"Dammit, dammit!" Castiel shouted. He started pacing as best he could in the small space, growling like a caged predator. "We should just break the doors off their hinges."

"And then what, genius?" Jody snapped. "Those chains would fall right on top of you. Dean and I don't have the space to get a good kick at it."

"Wait, wait. Wait." Sammie still had blood at his lips where he'd coughed it up during the beating and hadn't wiped it away. He pressed his ear to the doors, signalling for quiet. "Hear that? Anyone?"

The others fell quiet, listening. Dean shook his head. "Nothing."

"Exactly." Sammie said. He waited a few more seconds before slamming on the doors, again and again and again. "Hey!" He shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "Hey, we're down here! We're over here!"

Sammie's desperate hope was contagious. In seconds the others were calling, creating as much racket as they could. Surely somebody would find them if they kept up the noise.

"Sammie! Cassie! We're coming!"

"Mum!" Castiel shouted. "Mum, we're down here!"

"I've got the lock, hang on." The kids held their breath while Sam smashed the lock with the butt of his gun. The chains rattled, Bess swore, and Eileen flung the doors open so sunlight spilled into the cellar. Her shoulders slumped with relief at the sight of her daughter and son alive and safe.

Bess reached over to help the kids out of the cellar, wiping the blood off of Sammie's face with a concern grunt.

Dean frowned, quickly counting the amount of people here. The skinwalkers had said that there were at least four people, two werewolves, so... "Where's Garth?"

The twins instantly shot to their feet, spinning around as they thought Garth would emerge from behind a door if they looked hard enough. Both had panicked expressions on their faces, but Bess quickly pulled them close to her, kissing the tops of their heads.

"He's fine, boys, he's fine." She said comfortingly, tilting Sammie's head to the side to check him for injuries. "He's back at the car. Those dogs tore him up pretty bad, he had to back out."

They started walking, bruised and bloody, out into the main foyer of the house. While the hunters did their best to shield their children from the carnage, Dean knew the images would be burned into their brains forever. No matter how hard he tried to look anywhere else but the ground, there was blood everywhere. In the end, he just closed his eyes and held Jody’s hand, trusting her to lead him.

“We’ve left an anonymous tip with the FBI.” Sam said, as if this would make the slaughter any better. “They’ll be on their way to pick up the remaining children from outside.”

“Outside?” Sammie echoed numbly. He’d just spotted Mitch and the Hoatzin children, slumped against the back door as though they’d tried to escape.

Eileen was hesitant. She picked up Jody to place her on the other side of a body mangled by a werewolf’s teeth. “There are too many bodies. Too much publicity. We have to torch the house.”

And they did. They wouldn’t let the junior hunters watch. Instead they sent them to corral the lost children, herding them away from the fires and directing them towards a safe place to wait for the police.

“This is all your fault.” One of them, a girl only a few years younger than Jody, spat. Jody tried not to take this comment to heart, but the ice in the girl’s voice was impossible to ignore.

Castiel ended up taking charge. “Alright, everyone just sit here and you’ll be safe.” He announced, planting them under a huge tree. “And if anyone tells the truth about what happened here tonight, we’ll hunt you down and kill you. Understand?”

The children flinched. But they seemed to understand the message. Not a single one of them ran as the hunters climbed back into their respective cars after parting hugs and long goodbyes, and drove away from the roaring flames. They couldn’t risk being here when the police came.


	11. Family Feud

Dean hadn't been able to sleep properly since the night they visited, and murdered, the skinwalker den. Every night for the last week, the images of the bodies and blood and crying children flashed behind his closed eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about how he'd looked out the back window of the car as they drove away, watching the surviving children watch the flames devour the house and the bodies of the monsters who treated them as family.

With a growl he kicked his sheets off. It was the first day of the new school year tomorrow. How was he going to be able to focus if he couldn't sleep? Silently, not even alerting Bowie asleep under the bed, Dean padded down the hall to Jody's room and knocked quietly. When she didn't answer, he nudged the door open with his shoulder.

Jody was awake, sitting at her desk, still wearing the clothes from yesterday. She didn't look up as Dean approached, simply curled an arm over her notebooks and adjusted her reading glasses. "Why are you awake? It's a school night."

"You're awake too." Dean pointed out. He perched on the edge of the desk, disrupting Jody's neatly organised pen collection as he leaned over to see what she was doing. "Hey, is that the Hoatzin family photo? Are you scrapbooking?"

"No!" Jody said, her face flushing scarlet. "It's a casebook. Grandpa John had one, so I figured we should too, if we're going to be hunters."

Dean's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment he felt like he was falling. This was exactly what their parents hadn't wanted for them! This was what the Winchester family had worked so hard to avoid! Trembling, he leaned over and hugged his sister tightly. _Hunters always die. I can't lose her, ever._

He took a shuddering breath. "Jody," he began, "I think we both know that we're not going to be hunters."

Apparently, this hadn't occurred to Jody. She pulled back, a dark look in her eyes. "Why not? We did great with the skinwalkers!"

"It was a bloodbath we didn't even participate in because we were locked in a cellar!"

Jody muttered darkly under her breath and slammed the notebook shut. "You're just scared, you know that? You've been scared of hunting ever since we were kids!"

It was't in Dean's nature to rise to a challenge, he hopped off the desk, ducking his head with a snarl of frustration. "Of course I'm scared! Dad's entire family _died_ hunting! _Including_ Dad!"

"Dad got better! So did Uncle Dean and Cas and Adam and grandma Mary and grandpa John! They all got better! If they can die and still be alive for a couple years afterwards, so can we!"

Dean pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, surpressing the urge to scream. "Jody, why don't you understand?"

"Sammie and Castiel are hunters." Jody retorted, hopping off her chair. "We can be too! They're not that much older than us!"

"You're fourteen, Jody! And Sammie and Castiel are werewolves, they don't have a choice!" Dean slammed his fist against the desk to emphasise his point, and winced when Sam called out sleepily. Coming in here had been a bad idea. Groaning, Dean raked a hand through his hair. "I'm going back to sleep, Jodes. I'll see you in the morning."

\--

In the morning, Jody avoided looking at Dean as they hurried to get ready for school. She was hurt. Badly hurt. The things Dean had said had rocked her to her core, and she'd had to spend another hour after he left sharpening every pencil in her meticulously coordinated drawers to even begin to freeze out the anger.

Of course she could be a hunter if she wanted to! Negotiating with the skinwalkers had been the highlight of her summer. Sure, most of them died due to parental fury, but that happened sometimes in a hunt. Good people died. Mistakes could be made.

She cast a sidelong glance at Dean, who was buttering his toast with more ferocity than usual. He, also, was making a point not to look at Jody.

Eileen glanced absently at the clock and did a double-take, quickly shoving her toast into her mouth. "Quick!" She signed, scrambling out of her chair and gathering her things. "We'll be late for school, and I don't want to deal with your principal. She's a ghoul."

Dean laughed uncomfortably, and Jody just stared at their mother. This was something Eileen said often, but nobody was ever sure if it was she was serious. Sam had tried to look into it and get answers out of his wife, but this ridiculous mystery that sent her family running in circles was a source of great amusement for Eileen.

They pulled up outside the school and the Winchester kids booked it, sprinting to their respective classes as the schoolbell sounded, ringing over the school. "Run!" Eileen shouted from the car window, clearly enjoying herself. "Run, kids!"

Jody slid into her seat just as Mrs Porter finished writing on the whiteboard and turned to face the class. The old woman's eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of Jody, panting and taking out her books, but Jody just responded with her usual winning smile. Technically, since attendance hadn't been marked, she wasn't late.

Sitting at the table next to her was Irvine, Jody's best friend since third grade when she'd been marched into the school for the first time by her foster parents. Raising an eyebrow, Irvine reached out to poke Jody's arm with one brown finger. "Hey. What took you so long?"

"You know my family." Jody said dismissively. "We slept in."

Irvine snorted. "You Winchesters are like bats, I swear. What do your parents even do for a living that requires this level of nocturnality?" 

"Nocturnality isn't a word, and my dad's a lawyer." Jody responded. She ducked her head as Mrs Porter looked over, eyes narrowed. Talking in class, technically, wasn't allowed. However, Jody and Irvine didn't like that rule very much.

Irvine leaned in, scooting her chair sideways to get as close to Jody as possible. "Listen." She whispered. "Listen, I had a weird dream about your family last night. Well, specifically about Dean..."

This sparked curiosity in Jody. Irvine's dreams usually had some merit to them, as crazy as they seemed at the time. She leaned in, intending to ask more details while Mrs Porter wasn't watching, but before she had a chance the fire alarm blared from the speaker overhead, cutting through the silence of the class like a knife through butter.


	12. Chapter 12

Irvine and Jody walked with the rest of the class to the oval, where they were lined up and marked off on the roster. The teachers looked worried. A few of them were on their phones. In the distance, sirens. But no smoke. Jody frowned, clicking her fingernails against the small knife in pocket. Something was up.

Then she heard it, one name cutting through the chatter and uproar of the frightened students. Another teacher, Mr Simmons, was walking around with a clipboard, scanning the lines of children. "Dean Winchester?" He called, bouncing on the balls of his feet to see the crowd. "Has anyone seen Dean Winchester? Dean!"

Jody's heart all but stopped. Quickly, realising Mr Simmons would be coming over to her, she squeezed her us shut to force tears and adopted a frightened expression, glancing around nervously with her leg bouncing against the ground.

Mr Simmons squatted in front of her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey, kiddo, don't be scared. Look, have you seen your brother?" He asked softly. Jody shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks as she choked back a sob.

"He told me not to tell anyone." Jody whimpered. She could play the teary, innocent child if she wanted. "He was going to get a coffee before class, he got his name marked off and faked a bathroom break. I just texted him and told him not to come back. I'm really, really sorry, he didn't mean anything by truanting!" With this Jody broke down in tears, tucking her knees against her chest. "Please, don't let him get in trouble! I'm scared!"

"I promise, his punishment will be light." Mr Simmons just looked relieved. He stood up and stretched, marking Dean's name off on his list. "As long as he's safe, that's all that matters. Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jody sniffled and gave a shaky smile. As soon as Mr Simmons walked away, however, she wiped the tears off her face irritably and whipped out her phone. The chances of Dean not being connected to this were so astronomically slim it might as well be a zero percent chance.

The phone buzzed once, twice, three times. Then: _"Hey this is Dean! You know what to do!"_

"Dean, where are you?" Jody hissed. "Call me back, now, or I'm kicking your ass into next week. Got it? Over and out."

Within the hour, parents were arriving to pick up their children. Spotting Sam's car, Jody swore in such an unchild-like way it would've made Mr Simmons raise his eyebrows and take back his reassuring shoulder pat. Dean still hadn't called back. Time for Plan B.

Due to their wolfish nature and an old childhood habit of shifting to make a point, Sammie and Castiel were homeschooled. As such, they made perfect scapegoats. Hopping up to meet Sam at the open gates, Jody shot off a quick text to the boys.

_'cover 4 dean plz he is at cafe rite now and staying w u tonite'_

It took barely a second for Castiel to reply. 

_'Fix your grammar, heathen. Will do though. You can trust us. Details later.'_

Jody climbed into the passenger seat of the car, trying to look unbothered. "Hey, dad."

"Hey, daughter, good to see you’re safe." Sam responded, distractedly. He was staring out the side windows, scanning the children running to cars. "Where's Dean?"

"Truanting, if you believe." Jody plugged her seatbelt in and rifled through her bag, searching for food. "Said he was going to get a coffee from the cafe down the street, and when I told him not to come back to school, he said he was going to go and hang out with the Fitzgeralds."

There wasn't anything particularly suspicious about this statement, but Sam's eyes narrowed. Breaking rules was a little out of character for Dean, but he was a teenager, after all. It was to be expected. And besides, a coffee run on a school morning barely scratched the surface of the sort of things Sam had done by age sixteen. Even so, he drove to somewhere he could sit in peace for a bit and called Garth. 

He picked up on the second ring. "Sam!"

"Hey, man." Sam said conversationally. "Look, is my son with you? He wasn't at the school when I went to pick up the kids."

Garth didn't answer for a moment, as though he was listening to someone else, then he chuckled a little. "Not yet, but he will be." He said. The pups have gone to pick up, apparently he doesn't want to walk from the shops. Is that okay with you, him coming over here?"

Sam's shoulders slumped a little and he let out a breath he'd been holding. "Sure, sure." He said. "Look, um, just wanted to know where he was. You're a good friend, man."

"Aw. You too."

Feeling a little better, Sam ended the call and pulled back out onto the road, turning the radio up to eleven. He didn't even notice Jody texting furiously next to him, desperately trying to get ahold of Dean, while simultaneously explaining the situation to Sammie and Castiel.

Dean still hadn't responded by the time they arrived home. Jody spent the day in a daze, reading books and watching TV and adding to her casebook with more detailed drawings of the skinwalker dogs.

He didn't respond when Sam and Eileen swaddled Jody in attention and blankets, kissing her hair and cuddling her. They were worried about her. She seemed down, they said. Had the emergency at school today affected her? Was there anything they could do to help?

He didn't respond when Garth called and told them Dean wanted to sleep over with Sammie and Castiel, to get help on his homework. By midnight, Jody had fallen asleep fully clothed, curled around her phone like it was a lifeline.

And in the morning, when her alarm woke her for school, Dean still hadn't texted back.

He hadn't even read her messages.


	13. Chapter 13

Jody walked through school the next day in a daze. Even Irvine, usually so lost in her own head, noticed something was wrong. At first break she took Jody aside, dragging her over to the very edge of the school grounds. Not really caring today, Jody simply allowed this. Quietly, silently, her mind was racing. _Where could he be?_

"Look, here, we can stop here." Irvine finally ended the journey to sit down and start unpacking her lunch. "Jody, I need to tell you about the dream I had the other night. It was _really_ weird."

It took all of Jody's strength not to snap at her friend. In Irvine's defence, she had no idea anything was amiss. Dean was two years older, he was barely a blip on Irvine's radar. She knew and cared for him only as Jody's brother, nothing more. The fact that he wasn't at school today wasn't of concern to her.

Jody sat down, folding her legs under her. She wanted to be ready to move at a moment's notice. "Irv, your dreams are always weird." She pointed out, taking a bite out of her apple. Across the field, a few students were kicking around a soccer ball and cheering to one another. On a good day, Jody would have gone to join in. But today... today wasn't a good day. Today she wanted to just sit and eat her food, and get through the day.

"No, no, but this is _really_ weird!" Irvine insisted. "I saw your brother running from a vampire, throwing hard candy at it."

Irvine had had a lot of weird dreams before. Sometimes she would have weird daydreams that almost sent her in a catatonic state. But none of them, or at least none of the ones she'd told Jody, had ever been this downright stupid before.

Jody stared. Irvine stared back.

Finally, Jody summoned the courage to speak. "That's the most ridiculous dream you've had. Ever. What am I meant to do with that information?"

"Nothing." Irvine said slowly, looking at Jody as if she thought her friend had lost her mind. "It's a dream. It's not real."

"Right, right, of course." Jody said quickly, flushing red. She suspected that Irvine was psychic. Her dad, definitely, thought Irvine was psychic. He had personal experience to compare to. But if Irvine wasn't ready to face that fact yet, then the Winchesters wouldn't do anything to pull her into this life. Not unless they absolutely had to. Irvine was doing just fine having weird dreams and deja vu all the time.

The topic switched to the topic of some new kids in the year group. Meaningless, idle chatter as they ate and watched the students kick the soccer ball around the field. Normal kid stuff. Exactly the type of things Sam and Eileen had always wanted their kids to have.

Jody's phone buzzed in her pocket and she fished it out, giggling at something Irvine had said. Her eyes flickered on the contact on the screen and she froze, her laughter dying on her lips.

_Dean._

"Hold on, Irv, I gotta take this." Jody hopped to her feet, cringing as the bell rang. "Look, cover for me in class, okay? I won't be long."

"Yeah, 'course." Irvine looked baffled by Jody's expression, but collected their rubbish and followed the soccer teams up to the main buildings. As soon as she was out of sight, Jody answered the phone and pressed it to her ear with a sigh of relief.

"Where have you _been?_ " She snapped, wandering her way into a shady spot under a tree. "I've been worried sick! Dad thinks you're at the Fitzgerald's place, skipping school! What is going on?"

On the other end of the phone there was only static, and a few uncomfortable seconds of laboured breathing, during which Jody started to tense. Her hands closed around her knife. "Dean?" She asked cautiously. "Are you there?"

The breathing cut for a moment to make way for a hiccup and a choking, strangled sound. "Jodes?" Dean sobbed.

That one word. One word from Dean and Jody's mind was racing. You could tell a lot about someone's condition by the sound of their voice. Somewhere, somehow, Dean was hurt. Really, actually hurt. Jody straightened up, adopting a guarded expression as she retreated under the grandstand where nobody could find her.

"Dean. Talk to me." She hissed. "Where are you? Are you alright?"

A few more gulping noises. Struggling. Dean coughed, a horrible, wet sound. "No." He rasped. "No, I... I don't know where I am. Help me. Please. Help."

"Okay, stay where you are. Just wait there. I'm gonna call mum and dad, okay? We're coming to get you."

Jody started to pull the phone away, intending to put Dean on hold and call Sam, but Dean gave a shaky, agonised shout that made her pause. Wary, checking nobody was around to find her, she put the phone back to her ear.

"Don't..." Dean seemed to be struggling to breathe, but his voice was laced with urgency. "Don't tell them. Dad can't be here. Trust me. He really, really can't be here."

"Okay." Jody said softly. "Okay. I won't tell them. I'll come and find you myself if I have to. Okay?"

Dean didn't answer. Someone on his end of the phone was shouting, furious, words that Jody couldn't make out. She heard a cracking sound, and the line went dead. Any attempt to call back led to a voice telling her the number had been disconnected.

It took everything Jody had not to scream. As it was, she couldn't stop the flow of tears as she collapsed to the ground, gritting her teeth to hold in the cries.

She had to be strong. For Dean.


	14. Chapter 14

The second school ended that day Jody legged it onto a public bus instead of her usual school bus, pacing the aisle anxiously as it drove. When it finally pulled up at her stop she left so quickly she stumbled on the threshold but didn't stop. She just kept running, all the way to the Fitzgeralds' house two blocks away.

Garth, Bess, and Gertie were cooking ridiculously elaborate meal in the kitchen. They called out to her, bewildered, not really sure why she'd burst into their house unannounced. She didn't stop to say hi to them.

Sam and Castiel's door was closed. Without even pausing, Jody kicked it open and walked in. "Guys, you won't believe what..." She trailed off.

On the bed, frozen in a game of cards with the Fitzgerald twins and staring at Jody with abject terror on his face, was Dean.

Jody felt her face burn red with rage as she looked at Dean. He was fine. There wasn't a scratch on him. Had this all been some elaborate prank, then? Designed to scare her? She stormed over, baring her teeth. "Bastard!"

"No, no, Jody, wait–" Dean leaned back, raising his hands in a placating gesture. Jody shrieked with frustration, and her knuckles connected with Dean's mouth with a resounding _crack_. Blood sprayed across his lips, coating his teeth, and he fell to the floor, retching. _Not enough._ Growling, Jody drew back for another go.

Sammie grabbed her arm before she move and yanked her backwards, pinning her down. "Hey, Jody, listen." He pleaded, gesturing for Dean to get behind him. "Look, he's not dangerous. I promise. He's not going to hurt anyone, he's good, I swear! Okay?"

"She thinks he's _Dean_ , Sammie." Castiel drawled, standing up and folding his arms. "She probably didn't even realise he was a shapeshifter."

Enraged further by what Castiel was implying, Jody wrenched herself forward and landed another hit to Dean's cheekbone. He sprawled, coughing, and looked up with a snarl. His eyes flashed a horrible, reptilian silver. "Hey, back off!" He shouted, scrambling away from Jody. "I didn't _ask_ for this!"

It took both Castiel and Sammie to keep Jody pinned to the floor, and two agonisingly long minutes of gentle chatter and strokes to calm her down. When her vision was no longer bordered in red, she shoved the werewolves off and sat up, eyeing the shapeshifter suspiciously. He just stared back, terror in those silver eyes.

"What." Jody spat, not looking away from the shapeshifter. "Have. You Done."

"You told us to cover for Dean." Castiel pointed out, crossing his arms. "So there we go. It's a solution enough to keep our parents from calling the cops. Or worse."

"I'm not interested in risking my neck trying to fool our parents." The shapeshifter said. "So, I'm taking an extended vacation at dear Castiel and Sammie's house."

Jody leaped to her feet and wrenched the knife from her jacket. "They're _my_ parents. Not _ours_." She corrected with a snarl. The shapeshifter flinched and curled into a ball, looking to Sammie and Castiel for help as Jody stalked circles around him. They just shrugged as Josy pressed the tip of the knife against the shapeshifter's throat. "Now. Who are you?"

The shapeshifter quaked, staring down at the blade with gritted teeth. "My name is Bobby John. I'm... I'm a shapeshifter, but I'm a friend! I promise!”

Jody glanced at the twins for confirmation, and at their frantic nods, she put the knife away. “It wouldn’t have hurt you anyway.” She said coolly. “It’s not silver.”

“Just because it won’t kill me doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.” Bobby John retorted. He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck the same way Dean did when he was embarrassed. “Now. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get changed. I imagine it’ll make further interactions easier.”

Once Bobby John left the room with an awkward shuffle, Jody rounded on the twins. Sammie cowered, just a little, but Castiel raised his chin in defiance.

"You couldn't..." Jody paused. Took a breath. Counted to ten to calm herself. "You couldn't have warned me?"

"No. You wouldn't have been able to act natural in front of the parents" Castiel said, in that infuriatingly rational way of his. He stood up and dusted himself off, wincing a little at the sound of tearing skin coming from the next room.

Jody had never seen a shapeshifter shucking skin before, and her anger was quickly overridden by curiosity. She crawled away from the the boys, inching towards the bathroom. Through the crack in the door she could see Bobby John, shirtless, ripping bloody sheets of skin from his torso. With a shaky breath he grabbed at his hairline and tugged, taking off half his face in a mess of blood and a cry of pain.

Enough of that. Heart pounding, Jody scrambled back into the bedroom, knowing that the image of Bobby John– of _Dean_ – with tears in his eyes and half his face gone, a mess of red and pink and glistening blood in its place, would stay with her forever.

"Please." She whispered. "Please. Wherever Dean is, don't let him be hurt."

\---

There was blood in Dean's hair, dripping down his face, getting into his eye. He could feel it, warm and sticky against his skin, but all he could do to get rid of it was shake his head so the droplets would scatter. His hands were lashed together with rope, tight enough to cut into his skin, and his wrists were aching from holding his body weight.

Suspended from the ceiling by the wrists. Wasn't this a suffocating hazard? Dean tried to remember if Sam had ever told him about it, but his thoughts were slow and sluggish. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen to his brain, after all.

The room he was in was dark and cold and damp. A basement, maybe. From what Dean had been able to determine on the way in, the walls and floor were made of the same concrete, and the stairs leading down were wooden and rotten. It was important to take note of your surroundings, his parents had drilled that into him since he was a kid.

So he knew what the room looked like, but he'd be unconscious for the journey here. He had no idea of the terrain he would face upon escape.

Blood dripped into his eye and he shook his head, impatient, wincing at the airflow into his injuries. "Hello? Please, hello!" He shouted. His voice cracked over a sob, but he was past feeling embarrassed. He'd lost any shred of tough-guy exterior he had when he'd cried at the sight of the knives the man was going to use on him.

And use them he did. Everywhere.

But he took particular joy in carving up Dean's face.

They were talking upstairs. Talking and laughing. Family dinner, maybe. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Had to have been at least two, three days now? He listened mournfully as the dishes were cleared, the chatter began to fade as the family dispersed. One voice, a man's voice, only grew louder. Closer.

The basement door opened with a squeak, and shut again with a click. A fleeting moment. Barely a scratch of light. The man was silent, his footsteps echoing on those rickety old stairs.

Maybe if Dean was braver, like his father and uncle, or even his mother and sister, he could've come up with something witty to say. Something to annoy his captors, make them think he was perfectly comfortable in this situation. Maybe he would've been punched for it, but his wisecracking would throw the bad guys off their game, give him time to think of a plan. 

But he wasn't brave. He was a kid. A panicking, kidnapped child. And when that first knife lashed against his ribs, all he could do was scream.


	15. Chapter 15

They were back at Sammie's desk. Having cleared the crime-board of details from the skinwalker case, they were using it to try and figure out how to find Dean. So far, the board contained nothing but a rather nice picture of Dean right in the centre.

Bobby John didn’t look like Dean anymore. Instead she'd asked for she/her pronouns and was wearing the skin of a woman she’d seen in an old photograph. As such she looked disturbingly like a heroine from an old adventure novel, complete with elegant blond waves to her shoulders. She twirled a lock with a fingers, thinking.

“I have a few of Dean’s memories.” She said at last. She had a Welsh accent. “I need a pen and some paper. Someone?”

The supplies were handed out, and the hunter trio huddled around Bobby John as she sketched, squinting at the page and occasionally stroking her chin, undoubtedly a habit picked up from this form. Jody watched intently as the drawing began to take form, and sat up sharply.

“That’s Vice Principal Walker!” She said loudly. “What’s she doing?”

“Like I have a clue?” Bobby John paused for a minute before shading the drawing. “This is the last thing Dean saw before I took his form, I don’t know anything more than that.”

Wordlessly, Castiel pinned the drawing to the cork board so they could examine it. It was in the view of someone looking at the floor, and a woman lying very still on the ground. There was blood, shaded with ink, around her torso. At the top of the paper was a pair of sneakers that didn’t seem to belong to Dean.

They stared at it. Jody reached out to tap the drawing. "They didn't tell us she was dead." She said softly. "They did mention she would be away for a few days."

"Hospital, then." Castiel was already shrugging on his jacket, peering at the drawing with a frown. "The sooner we get going, the sooner we can find Dean."

\---

It was easy enough to get into the hospital; they barely even needed a cover story. Jody led the way, claiming the her entourage as her aunt and cousins. They were all here to check on Walker and see how she was. See, Jody had even brought flowers!

It was the flowers that sealed the deal. The receptionist sent them down the hall and into the room where Walker was kept, with strict instructions that they had ten minutes of visiting time before they had to leave. The hospital was busy this week. Bobby John, playing the part of a mature aunt perfectly, nodded and assured the receptionist that they wouldn't be long.

Vice Principal Walker was sitting up in bed, sipping a glass of water. Half of her head was wrapped in thick bandages. The bedside table next to her was adorned with cards and flowers, threatening to spill over the edge and form a pool of condolences on the floor. Jody added her bouquet to the pile and walked over to Walker's bedside, hesitant. Hunter or not, Jody was still just a student approaching a head teacher. Some nerves were allowed.

"Miss?" Jody asked tentatively, and Walker looked over with a wide smile. Clearly, she was a little hopped up on painkillers.

"The littlest Winchester!" She said, her words a little slurred. With a great sweep she cleared a spot on her table for the water to sit. "Please, call me Beth. Have you come to wish me condolences too?"

Jody opened her mouth to respond but paused. Truth be told, she didn't have much of a plan in mind. As usual, she'd just walked in guns blazing, ready to question the vic with no preparation beforehand. _Dean was always the one with the plans..._

Castiel and Sammie were crunched together in the visitor's seat, pretending to talk quietly to one another. Jody couldn't hear what they were saying, but she was ready to bet that they were eavesdropping on her conversation. Standing behind them, Bobby John seemed to be reading. "Ten minutes, honey." She reminded, barely even glancing up from the waiting room magazine she'd snagged.

"Yeah, yeah." Jody flashed a quick thumbs up and turned back to Beth. "No, I'm here to find out what happened. And I was wondering if you'd seen Dean?" She lowered her voice a little. "He never came home from school after the fire drill."

Beth started nodding frantically and reached out, fingers grasping aimlessly at the air beside her. Uncertain, Jody pushed the water glass into Beth's hand. This seemed to be what Beth wanted, because she beamed lopsidedly and took a shaky sip.

An eternity seemed to pass before Beth spoke again. "Yes. Yes, Dean. I remember now. Dean was in my office. We were the only ones in there, I wanted to talk with him about his grades before I called your parents."

This made Jody pause. "Dean's grades are bad?" She asked, shocked, before shaking herself out. Dean's grades weren't the point of this conversation.

Thankfully, Bobby John stepped in when she noticed Jody falter. "Mrs Walker–"

"Beth."

"Beth." Bobby John corrected. She took a breath, presenting herself as the concerned aunt to a missing child. "Beth, can you tell us what happened in the office that day? What happened to you?"

"We were talking and..." Beth's heart monitor beeped as adrenaline flooded her body at the memories. "We were talking... He must have had knives. A man came in. He was wearing a ski mask. He looked like.... His hands, he looked like he had claws. Massive claws. I think he was holding a knife. My mind was playing tricks on me. That must be it."

Beth was talking now, faster and faster, words pouring out of her. Her stories overlapped and contradicted, her mind trying desperately to find an explanation, any explanation, other than the supernatural that was staring her in the face. Civilians often did that. Her hands flickered over the bandages on her head, her waist, undoubtedly hiding stitches and innards slashed to ribbons.

"Dean..." She rasped. "Smart boy, that one. He tripped the fire alarm. I think he was hurt though, really hurt, because he let the man carry him out of the office. And then I woke up here." Beth shrugged as though it was no big deal, but her face was white and glistening with sweat. 

Then she sat forward, wincing. The sheets of the bed rustled like paper as she reached out to put a hand on Jody's shoulder. "Jody, honey, have you gone to the police? If Dean's been kidnapped..."

A nurse walked in with a syringe, glancing to Jody with a startled expression. "He hasn't." Jody said quickly. "He escaped, but he ran away. He said he was scared to come home, so we were trying to find out what happened. Thank you, Beth."

"Glad to be of help." Beth mumbled. Her eyes closed as the nurse inserted the syringe into her IV line, sending a new wave of pain killers flooding into her system.


	16. Chapter 16

"I don't understand." Jacob said, frustrated. He paced the basement, dragging his hands through his hair. There were bags under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept in a week.

The man's name was Jacob. It took two days– maybe three?– for Dean to figure that out. Until that moment, Dean had simply referred to him as 'the man who kidnapped me'.

It had been an eventful afternoon, mostly full of Dean being poked and cut and threatened, and in one interesting experimental decision, burned. Witty remarks were exchanged, mentally at least since Dean was too busy yelling to say them. The man who kidnapped Dean still hadn't revealed anything about himself, or his motives. He hadn't even taken the ski mask off.

Then, after maybe an hour of this, there were footsteps on the stairs. The man froze for a moment, listening with his head cocked to one side. With a growl he pressed his hand over Dean's mouth and cut the restraints before unceremoniously dragging the kicking and biting Dean to the linen cupboard and shoving him inside. "One word." He snapped. "One word and I'll kill you, and then your sister. Got it?"

Dean had understood. He wasn't brave enough to challenge the specifications the man had set, so he simply tried to make himself comfortable in the cupboard and pressed his hands into his wounds to stop the bleeding.

Outside, the man was having a conversation with a likely equally nefarious woman.

"Jacob, sweetheart, I need you to take Elys to soccer practice tomorrow." The woman said. There was a shifting, clattering noise, as though she was searching the storage cupboards and drawers for something specific. "Have you seen Hana's old teddy bear? I want to take it to.... I want to give it to her tomorrow."

"It's in this one here, I think." There was some more clattering as the man dug for the teddy bear, before he made a strangled noise. "Here." He said, softly. "I can take Elys tomorrow. Tell Hanna I love her, okay?"

"I will." The woman said hoarsely. Her footsteps thumped up the stairs. The door creaked on its hinges, open and shut, and Dean braced himself.

The man flung the door to the cupboard open and Dean tumbled out with a yelp. He looked up blearily, blinking back to tears. "Jacob." He groaned. "You forgot to put your mask back on."

Jacob's knuckles cracked against Dean's jaw, sending him sprawling, and that was the moment that started what, in Dean's dry opinion, could turn out to be a blossoming friendship. Especially since Jacob had taken to simply chaining Dean wrists to the floor instead of suspending him from the ceiling.

Dean was snapped back to the present as Jacob kicked him lightly, but his heart wasn't in it." I don't understand." Jacob repeated darkly. "Sam should have come looking for you by now. Why hasn't he found you yet?"

"Maybe he's a rusty hunter. Or maybe he just doesn't care." Dean offered, turning so Jacob wouldn't pace into his blind spot. A cut on his face had gotten infected, and it was doing something funky to his vision on the left side. That was probably bad. Wasn't much he could do about it.

This drew Jacob up short and he sniffed disapprovingly. "He's your dad." He reminded Dean, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Of course he cares."

Dean shrugged, shuffling again as Jacob continued to pace. "It's not as if my grandfather was a great parent. Maybe my dad is just doing what he thinks is the normal, regular thing to do. As shown by role models."

This was clearly something Jacob hadn't considered. He sat down next to Dean, resting his elbows on his knees and leaned against the wall with a sigh. Seeing this as an invitation, Dean drew up to mimic. His spine wailed in relief at the movement, stretching out of the uncomfortable, hunched position he'd been in.

Deep down, Dean knew what he'd said about his father wasn't true. The day after his kidnapping, he'd managed to get to his phone and call Jody. He'd told her to cover for him, before Jacob had crushed the phone in his claws and beaten Dean senseless as punishment. Sam _did_ care about Dean. He just didn't know anything was wrong.

Dean had to believe that. It was all that was keeping him going.

It was quiet for a moment, before Dean said, in a poorly thought out decision, "So... are you going to keep me down here forever, or am I going to get to meet your family?"

Jacob thumped his fist into Dean's diaphragm, forcing the air out of his body with a _whoosh_ , and turned the lights off as he left the room.

Leaving Dean to gasp for breath, alone on the cement, wrapped in darkness.

\---

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Sam just didn't know what.

He did a couple laps around the house, poking his head into every room. It was completely empty, just Sam alone in the house. Eileen had taken Bowie out to show some new hunters basic research and tracking skills and likely wouldn't be back until a little before nightfall.

His kids were out. Both were at the Fitzgerald house, supposedly. Sam had called Bess earlier, and apparently Jody, the twins, and some other woman they'd managed to sneak into the house had taken off over an hour ago. They were yet to return, and a poke around the bedrooms turned up no evidence of Dean's extended stay. That was okay, though. 

This wasn't the first time Dean had vanished to hide with the Fitzgeralds. He'd done it twice before, both after significant traumatic events: once when he was thirteen and he'd watched a man get run over by a bus, and again when he was fifteen and a ghost took to haunting under his bed. Much like an elusive cat, he hid from Garth and Bess, only coming out at night to take the leftovers the twins brought him.

So, this reaction to the fire drill, while a little overdramatic and weird, was fine. 

Even so, Sam couldn't shake his unease. He slipped an extra dagger in his pocket before heading out to get groceries, just in case.


	17. Chapter 17

Researching lore was hard. And boring. They barely had any books at their disposal and, like the skinwalker case, online research started to turn up a lot of movie and TV show articles once they dug past dog attacks and amber alerts.

Bobby John had taken them all to the library she worked at, and dumped them in the reference section. She had other matters to attend to, she said. After all, she did have a family of her own who thought she was on an extended business trip, or some such. While they were in the area, she wanted to swing by and see them.

At random, Sammie yanked a book on native wildlife from the shelf and stretched out on the carpet, flicking through the pages. Castiel raised an eyebrow condescendingly. 

"That's not very useful." He said. Sammie just shrugged in response– He'd been close to giving in to his emotions for a while now, and Jody suspected he was close to crumbling. That wouldn't be good for anyone.

She snapped her book on Native American folklore shut, cringing as the sound echoed, and shoved it aside. "Maybe we're focusing on the wrong thing. Maybe instead of trying to figure out _what_ took Dean and hurt Beth, we should be focusing on _why_."

Castiel looked up slowly, an indescribable expression on his face. "Because he's super annoying." He deadpanned.

"That's not helpful, Tiel." 

Sammie suddenly sat up and started digging through his jacket pockets, squirming as though a spider had crawled into his clothes. The movements were jarring enough to catch Jody and Castiel's attention, their petty bickering forgotten in their bewilderment. Then Sammie grinned and tossed something on the floor.

It was a book. Ancient, beat up leather cover with medical-grade stitches keeping it from falling apart. Crumpled and frayed pages, smelling of old paper and lead. 

John Winchester's journal.

"Are you serious?" Jody yelped. "Why do you even have that?"

"Nicked it from Dean's room." Sammie said, with a touch of pride in his voice. "I figured it could be useful."

This wasn't a statement Jody wholeheartedly believed in. That book had to be nearing sixty years old by now, half the research put into it was sure to be outdated. And aside from that...

Jody eyed the journal suspiciously. In her opinion, this was the book that had sent her father down the path of pain his life had taken, and had gotten her uncle killed. In this world, where witchcraft was a real thing, Jody almost genuinely believed this book to be cursed.

Castiel started flicking through the journal, fanning the pages as he propped himself up against the bookshelf. All his attention was focused on the pages. "This so so _old_." He murmured, turning to the end of the journal. "We're looking for a reason someone would take Dean?"

"Someone _supernatural._ " Jody interjected. "We've only been on one hunt, so I don't know why anyone would be after Dean."

"Roadtrip?" Sammie suggested. He started re-shelving the pile of books they'd read through, up on his knees against the shelves to jam them back into the gaps. "She escaped the skinwalker massacre, right? Maybe she wants revenge."

"Walker said it was a man." Castiel rebutted. "Besides, Roadtrip doesn't have claws that can do that much damage."

"Excuse me." A woman said crossly, and the trio jumped. For a junior hunter and two werewolves, they were awfully easy to sneak up on. 

The librarian peered down at them, her face pinched. Her name was Muriel Williams. Muriel had been working at this library for almost forty years, and she didn't like children. She especially didn't like rowdy children. And, a new category she had to add to her list just now, she _especially_ didn't like rowdy children holding a book full of satanic symbols. This was her first time dealing with the latter, and she didn't like it one bit.

Puffing out her chest, Muriel planted her hands on her wide hips. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave the library." She said, her voice high with self-importance. "You have caused far too much noise, and your shelving style is... inadequate." This last comment was directed to the hyperactive blonde boy, who ducked his head and grinned.

As they were standing up and scrabbling together their things, apologising profusely, a photo slipped from the pages of the leatherbound book. Muriel blinked, her previous contempt forgotten as she locked eyes with the figure in the picture. A familiar figure, indeed. "Why do you have that photo?"

Jody stooped to pick up the photo and looked at it. It wasn't really familiar to her at all– a blonde woman, not looking at the camera. It was as though she didn't realise her photo was being taken. Smiling a little, the librarian took the photo from Jody and studied it.

"Amy Pond. She was my next door neighbour, back in the day. Did you all know her, then?" She squinted at the children in front of her. "No, you're too young."

"Our parents knew her." Sammie blurted. Jody and Castiel stared at him and he blushed, shoving the journal to Castiel. "This is a... an address book. Of sorts."

The librarian nodded slowly. "Well, her son just moved into town last week. I'm not sure where he lives, but he frequents the Halling Pub down at Mayfair road. Haven't seen the kid since he was seven. If you catch him, send him my way, would you?"

Jody's heart began to beat in her chest. She didn't believe in coincidences. When your cousin is literally God, you start to accept that nothing that happens to you is accidental. _To the pub it is!_ "Of course, ma'am. Thank you so much!"

\---

Garth was going through the security footage from this week. There had been a couple break-ins around the area, and he'd had it installed a month ago to make sure nobody came onto his property. Granted, his entire family could handle themselves in a fight, but Garth didn't want it to come to that. As an extra preventative, he hadn't told the family about the camera. If they knew, they might get paranoid, and a paranoid werewolf is never a good thing.

He fast-forwarded through the days, watching the figures of people coming in and out of the houses– himself and his family– and people walking past, down the street. He watched Castiel and Sammie leave, and come back hours later with Dean in tow–

Wait.

Garth sucked at his teeth and hit the rewind button, playing the clip again and again, unable to believe what his eyes were telling him. _That ain't right_.

Just for a second, a quick, heart-stopping second, Dean's eyes flicked to the camera.

His eyes were white on the screen. There was a reflective layer in his eyes, something humans didn't have. Something hunters used to identify monsters.

Garth swore, and grabbed his phone to call Sam.


	18. Chapter 18

It was starting to get late, so Jody shot off a quick text to her parents to let them know that the study session was going on a little longer than anticipated. She might have to stay the night. 

Sam responded with a simple thumbs up emoji. While Sam's texts were usually brief and to the point, he didn't often use emoticons. Something must be bothering him. Frowning, Jody shoved her phone back into her pocket and returned to the task at hand.

The timing made sense. The motive was there, even if the hunters didn't completely understand it. It was all written in the journal, in a different writing style than the first half of the book. Amy Pond had been murdered by Dean Winchester, back in 2012. Her son Jacob had came into town only recently. It made sense that he'd have something to do with this. Though what kidnapping Dean, the younger Dean, could achieve so long after Amy's death was a mystery.

After establishing the facts of the past, the group split up. Time was of the essence.

Bobby John and Castiel hit the local internet cafe to browse for information on Jacob Pond.

While Bobby John went to order them milkshakes, Castiel did a quick sweep of the room. There were only a handful of people in the cafe: a woman at the counter and a younger girl in the kitchens, an elderly man on the computer in a corner, and a stressed looking teenager with an open math book in front of him. There was a door at the back of the kitchen with a sign for a fire exit above it. Aside from the front doors, it was the only escape from the building.

That was fine. Castiel nodded to himself, confirming his own safety, before turning his attention to the screen. He took sips from the milkshake Bobby John placed in front of him, but his fingers darted over the keyboard, hitting each key like a hammer at rapid speed.

Bobby John took a seat next to him. "So," She said, watching castiel's hands, "I'm guessing you're a bit of a computer whiz."

"Not really." Castiel kept typing, occasionally pausing to write something down in a pocketbook. He narrowed his eyes at the screen. "Sammie's better at it, but I enjoy it a lot more than he does. Take over as scribe."

He shoved the notebook at Bobby John, who took it and began writing the information as Castiel read it out.

"His mother was a mortician." Castiel said, fixated on the screen. "Good job for her kind. Too bad he didn’t follow her."

"Kind?" Bobby John asked with a jolt. It hadn't occurred to her to figure out what sort of creature they were facing. Some hunter-helper she was turning out to be.

Castiel didn't answer for a second, elbow deep in pop-up ads as he sifted through the internet's grime. "Jeez. This guy's wanted for murder in at least two states. I think. Kitsunes, they can never keep their claws to themselves."

Bobby John leaned in closer to the screen. Yeah, while the police hadn’t managed to match a name to a face, the blurry photo on the computer definitely bore some resemblance to the late Amy Pond. Knowing kitsunes, Jacob had been killing for food, moving around so hunters wouldn’t catch him. Bobby John would have done the same, after all.

Humming softly, Castiel crawled out of the darker parts of the web and moved back to the surface information. “Okay. Says here he has two daughters... no. No he _had_ two daughters. One of them was...”

He paused. Took a shaky breath. “No way that was an accident. A hunter killed her. Jacob’s taking revenge on the hunters by hurting Dean.”

“What’s this about Dean?” Sam growled.

Bobby John yelped and Castiel whirled, clicking out of the internet tab and doing his best to shove the shapeshifter behind him, out of sight. “Mister Winchester! Hi! What– what’re you doing here?”

“You left your Find My Friends app on.” Sam said. He took a seat at the computer on Castiel’s left, and glanced at Bobby John. His eyes narrowed. “Who’s this?”

“Roberta Johnson. I’m Castiel’s... maths tutor.” Bobby John rasped. She took Sam’s hand to shake it, and shuddered. To her, Sam was a cold-blooded killer. This was a man who, in his heyday, would have cut her down like a weed without a second thought. Sweat broke out across her brow, and Sam frowned.

“Alright, then.” The chair squeaked as Sam scooted closer to Castiel, lowering his head so Bobby John couldn’t overhear. Theoretically. Since Bobby John’s senses were greater than a human’s, she was able to hear every word.

Now that he was up close, Castiel could see the panic in Sam’s eyes, panic he was struggling to hide. “Where is Dean?” He asked. “I thought I saw someone who looked like him on your father’s security cameras. But I was mistaken. Do you catch my drift?”

“Yes sir.” Castiel croaked. From the corner of his eye he could see Bobby John stand and, stiff-limbed and shaking, hurry towards the bathroom.

——

Sammie and Jody were tasked with figuring out where Jacob was living in the first place, and what he wanted with Dean. The easiest way to do that, of course, was to hit the pub.

Luckily, they both had amateur-crafted fake IDs for the purpose. While the man at the door raised his eyebrows in suspicion, he waved them through. Tipping an imaginary hat at him, Jody led the way.

Before she even had a chance to take in her surroundings Sammie grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to one side, hiding them both behind a large potted plant. “Look.” Sammie whispered, inclining his head. Jody shoved him away to peer through the fronds of the plant, squinting in the direction that Sammie had implied.

There, at the bar, was a man sipping at a beer. His eyes wandered over the bar patrons hungrily, flashing gold when they caught the dim light. Sammie's nose was wrinkled as he sniffed the air, picking out the scents of a supernatural creature. Jacob. Surely, this was Jacob.

Jacob stood up and raised a hand, bidding goodbye to the bartender as he slipped on his coat and left the building, passing so close that Jody could have reached out and touched his sleeve.

But she didn't. Instead she waited until the door swung shut before bouncing up, grabbing Sammie by the elbow. "Come on!" She hissed. "Let's follow him. Quickly!"


	19. Chapter 19

Jody and Sammie tracked Jacob through the streets, doing their best to seem like average people. This was difficult– as the sun dipped below the skyline, there were less and less people around for Sammie and Jody to hide amongst, and eventually they had to resort to following his scent like dogs in order to stay hidden.

Eventually, Jacob turned into a driveway and, with a quick glance around the empty street, let himself in through the front door.

His house. The hunters crouched in the hedge of the neighbour next door, weighing their options. It was too late at night to pose as scouts selling cookies or kids searching for a missing dog. No, the only solution was to be direct. Exhaling softly, Jody flicked two knives into her hands to test their weight. This would have to be a fight.

Covering his phone with one hand so as not to give their location away with the light from the screen, Sammie started texting frantically. "Tiel's not answering." He growled darkly. "I think something's wrong."

"Tiel can handle anything, Sammie, you know that." Jody whispered. She barely noticed him huff sulkily and pocket the phone; her attention was entirely focused on the dimly lit house. Somewhere inside there was Dean, she could feel it. _I'm coming for you, brother._

She beckoned Sammie and the two of them darted to the side of the house like rabbits on the run, crouching against the bricks. Jody pressed herself against the wall and craned her head, peering up through the little window above them. The sounds of chatter and clatter came from within, likely the beginnings of dinner being eaten. She made a quick signal with her fingers. 

The hand signals were something the group had been working on sporadically since early childhood, abbreviated versions of words in sign language. Jody's signal loosely translated to 'boost' and Sammie quickly obliged, lacing his fingers together to give Jody a leg up to the window. Once she had squeezed inside, he scrabbled up after her.

Jody landed in near silence on the bathroom floor, quickly stabilising the cup of toothbrushes she'd disturbed on her way in. On her hands and knees, she slipped up against the door and peered through, watching the family eat. Her own stomach growled. As soon as she got Dean back, she'd take him out for a burger or something. They'd all deserve it.

"Okay, I see Jacob." She whispered.

"Jody." Sammie hissed from behind her.

She ignored him, heart thrumming against her ribs as she took in the enemy. "He's eating dinner with his wife and daughter. There's a fourth place set at the table, possibly for the dead daughter. No suspicion."

"Jody!" Sammie said, a little louder. Tearing her eyes away, Jody glanced over at him.

The window had been a little small even for Jody. But for Sammie, a nearly adult werewolf growing into his size, it was too much. He'd managed to get his shoulders and chest through, but his waist was caught. The panic was beginning to set in, and his eyes flashed yellow.

Shushing him as though he were a child, Jody braced her hands against Sammie's shoulders and pushed, hard. He snarled in pain and shoved his fist in his mouth to keep from crying out. Attracting the attention of the family inside would not help matters.

Torn, Jody glanced from the bathroom door to Sammie as he struggled to free himself. "Okay, unless we can get you out of there, we're both trapped." She reasoned. "And Jacob will likely find us before we manage that."

Sammie knocked her away. "This is the only chance you'll get to find Dean." He pointed out. "Give me your phone so I can call for backup. Now go!"

There was a quick scuffle as the pair exchanged items, trading a phone for a small gun tucked into Sammie's sleeve. Even knowing he'd be safe, perhaps safer than she would be, Jody hesitated and gave a quick salute before closing the bathroom door and sneaking into the main part of the house.

The little girl was the first to spot Jody. She pointed and screamed, scrabbling backwards and dropping to the floor in her immediate fear response.

Jacob and his wife leaped to their feet. For a second they stared at each other, the kitsune family and the young hunter, in shocked silence. Then Jacob reacted, throwing a kitchen knife that Jody dodged easily, and shoved his family towards the front door. "Sarah!" He shouted. "Get Elys out of here!"

"Elys, get out of here!" The woman– Sarah– snapped instead. Her claws shot out and she charged forward, slashing at Jody faster than the eye could blink.

Jody yelped and flipped onto her back like a beetle, driving her boots into Sarah's stomach as hard as she could. The breath escaped Sarah with a _whoosh_ and she twisted, claws grating into the hardwood floor. A snarl tore through her teeth and she pushed off the ground, landing a punch that sent Jody sprawling.

Her head pounded. Sure, Jody had trained for this for a while, but a punch to the chin is still a punch to the chin. Grunting, Jody struggled to stand and was immediately downed again by an elbow at the base of her skull. Stars exploded behind her eyes.

Spitting blood on the floor, Jody reached shakily for Sammie's gun and cocked it as she pushed herself to her knees. When Sarah went to shove her back down, claws slashing through her jacket, Jody rolled on to her side and fired. Sarah gasped and stumbled, struggling, and in her distraction Jody raised her blade.

_The only way to kill a kitsune is to hit the heart._

Adrenaline pulsed through Jody's body, a steady hum in her fingers. She felt... powerful. Leaving the girl cowering in the corner, Jody stepped over Sarah's body and hurried down the hall she'd seen Jacob take. Blood poured from her wounds, the split in her chin and the gashes in her torso, but Jody barely noticed. She could hear something, a muffled cry.

_Dean._

Rage tore through Jody's very soul and she slammed her foot into the door, sending it flying off the hinges. Stairs yawned before her, heading down into the dark. The basement. This must be the basement. Steeling herself, Jody stalked down the stairs with her gun raised.

Dean turned to look at her, hope shining in his one open eye. He reached out a hand, for her and mumbled something through his gag. Jody took a step forward, lowering her weapons, moving to embrace her brother–

And then a gun fired.

Dean screamed.

And Jody collapsed, dark blood pooling around her like an angel's wings.


	20. Chapter 20

Sam laid down the facts for Castiel. Since Bobby John was still in the bathroom and Eileen had walked in after a fruitless search for Jodie and Sammie, the adults felt safe enough to speak openly. It had taken a while for Castiel to understand, because he was _so_ bewildered at the very notion that Sam was presenting.

"We believe Dean's missing." Sam said, in that cool, calm manner he used when he was really stressed. 

Castiel frowned. "He was at my house earlier today. Didn't want to come out shopping with us."

"If you review this security footage from a couple days ago," Sam went on patiently, "You can see a camera flare. There. See?"

Eileen paused the video on Sam's phone, turning it so Castiel could see. 

Yes, there they were, the twins walking with Bobby John in Dean's form through the front gate. And just for a second Bobby John had looked up, the camera catching the reflective layer in his eyes. Castiel bit his lip to keep from swearing. "I... wasn't even aware we had security at our house."

"Garth installed it privately." Eileen said. She leaned forward, examining the phone screen. "Do you know where the shapeshifter is now?"

Castiel paused, running through his options. His phone buzzed in his pocket, the fourth time in the last hour, and he pressed his hand against it. With Sam and Eileen's full attention on him, now was not the time for texting.

The longer Castiel hesitated, the darker Sam's expression became. After about a minute Sam opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a staff member striding into the middle of the room, clapping his hands to draw the attention of the customers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if we can please evacuate!" He shouted. "In an orderly fashion! The internet cafe is closed for the evening."

Castiel, Sam, and Eileen all stood with no intention of leaving. The older hunters strode forward with purpose, already digging through their pockets for badges to flash at the manager. With nowhere else to go, Castiel followed slowly.

One of the evacuating customers knocked against his shoulder roughly, almost sending him sprawling. Castiel turned, growling, but the customer merely smiled and winked before leaving the building.

Weird. 

Eileen was talking to a barista, who didn't seem to be able to understand her very well but looked too frightened to say anything. Her eyes darted to the badge Eileen was holding up. "There's... something in the bathroom." She managed finally. "We thought it was a body, but we can't tell _what_ it is. Definitely a biohazard though."

Sam and Eileen exchanged a glance, but the truth was already dawning on Castiel. Bobby John's fear. The man who had winked at Castiel. In that bathroom was a pile of dead skin and hair, the remains of Roberta Johnson. Castiel was willing to put money on it.

While Eileen and Sam went to investigate, Castiel ducked back against the counters and pulled up his phone, checking the things had missed. A missed call and a text from Sammie, and two texts from Jody. In his hand, the phone buzzed again– from Sammie. Exhaling deeply, Castiel scrolled through.

_Pick up your phone bro things getting dangerous. At Jacob Pond's house. Jodes v intense._

_Sammie again, Jody's phone. Stuck in window. Jody gone in alone. Please help_

_Heard gunshots an screaming. Gonna break window 2 get out. Please hurry._

That had been ten minutes ago. The most recent text simply read:

_911 now_

Okay. Time to tell the parents. Castiel skittered across the floor, dodging staff members shouting at him to leave, and thumped against Eileen. "Hey!" He said sharply, and shoved his phone into her face so she could read it.

She didn't understand most of it. There was no context for who Jacob Pond was, or why Sammie and Jody were with him. But the important words jumped out at her, and within moments the trio had been bundled into the car and were driving well over the speed limit, following the directions Sammie was texting. There were so many spelling errors in his texts, Castiel realised dully. Sammie's hands must be shaking too hard to type.

Sammie was swearing as Castiel told him the whole story; all about Dean's disappearance, the visit to the hospital, the investigation into Dean's captor, and finally, the plan to track Jacob down and Jody and Sammie's rash actions upon the discovery of his house. Gritting his teeth, Sam stamped his foot to the accelerator so the car roared in protest. The other cars on the road blared their horns as Sam swerved around them.

"Dammit!" He shouted. "Dammit, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me!"

It wasn't like Sam to get so angry. Castiel hunched down in his seat without response, directing them into the driveway of a dimly lit house. The side window was partially demolished, destroyed wood and plaster littering the lawn, broken glass glinting red in the headlights. That must be Sammie's entrance. Eileen leaped from the car before Sam had even stopped and ran to the front door, kicking it open with the force a battle-trained mother on a mission.

Directly in the hallway lay a girl, about ten years old, sobbing against the cold body of a woman. The trio moved on, pausing only to draw their weapons, and for Sam to lift the child into his arms and hold her gently. The girl hiccuped and buried her face in Sam's shoulder.

They followed the trail of red bootprints down the hall, past a door that looked like a bomb had hit it and down some creaking, rickety stairs. Rough crying echoed in the room below, the crying of a man near-broken. Castiel's hands trembled at his sides as the smell hit him in a wave.

Eileen, at the front of the line, suddenly dropped her gun with a clatter. "Jody!" She shrieked. "Dean!"

The little girl was shoved at Castiel and he fumbled, struggling to adjust to her weight as Sam and Eileen rushed down the stairs, sprinting towards their children: both were unmoving on the floor, one in a pool of her own blood and the other chained down, stinking of infection and sickness.

On the other side of the room was the source of the crying. Sammie, crouched next to the broken body of Jacob Pond, gasping for breath and trembling. He looked up as Castiel approached, his eyes glassy and unseeing. In shock. Castiel gently turned the girl so she wouldn't have to see, balancing her with one hand so he could check over his brother with the other. 

"Sammie?" Castiel asked roughly, lightly tapping him on the cheek. "Snap out of it. You alright?"

"B- B- Bruises and stuff." Sammie stammered. He lurched forward abruptly, curling up against Castiel. "I d- did my best to stop the bleeding. I t- t- tried."

Castiel glanced over at the Winchester parents, who were talking to each other in rapid, agonised voices, a still child in each of their arms. At the sight of his friends' pale faces and bloodless lips, Castiel had to look away. Instead he started examining Jacob Pond. 

"There's barely a scratch on him." he said softly. "What did you do?"

Sammie shook his head rapidly, peering up at Castiel. "I d- didn't. He was dead when I got here. L- Look."

He gestured to the wall, drawing Castiel's attention to a spiderweb crack in the bricks. Castiel narrowed his eyes. It was as though something heavy had been thrown against it, and recently too, judging from the still-settling brick dust. 

Something weird had happened in this basement. Castiel was sure of it.

Outside, as the moon shone out from behind the clouds, sirens began to wail.


	21. The Most Haunted Place On Earth

Dean woke up.

It wasn't the first time he'd done so. In fact, over the course of his life, he'd woken up many times. But that had always been easy. This, however, was different.

This time when Dean woke up, it felt like his whole body had been doused in flames. He woke up screaming, gagging at the feeling of plastic deep in his nose, tearing at the sheets covering his body. Where was he? _Where was he?!_

He scrambled off the bed and hit the floor, crying out as pain tore through his body on impact. He crumpled to the floor. The world spun, and as it faded to black he saw three pairs of medical-grade tennis shoes rushing towards him.

The next time Dean woke up, he was gently restrained to the bed with leather cuffs. They weren't tight, and he could probably escape them if he tried. They were just there to keep him from freaking out again. He tugged at one to test both the strength of the leather and that of his weak, exhausted body before studying his surroundings.

The bed he was attached to was hard and plasticky. The sheets were an off-white colour, matching almost very piece of decor in the room. There were three identical beds in the other corners, all empty. One of them had rumpled sheets, and a balloon tied to the bedhead. 

Hospital. This was definitely a hospital.

Dean groaned softly and sat up, picking his way out of the cuffs and unhooking the various tubes and wires attached to his body. His muscles were stiff. Sore. Carefully, feeling every twinge of stitches in his skin, Dean felt his way to the bathroom. He'd been asleep for a long time, and it was taking a toll on his insides.

When he was done, he braced his hands on the sink for support and looked up, examining his reflection in the mirror. He looked fine. The cuts on his face had been stitched up and there was some kind of plastic stuff on his darker bruises. His left eye was covered in thick bandages, completely obscuring his vision, and Dean frowned. Getting wary now, he started figuring out how to remove his hospital gown to inspect the rest of his body.

Someone pounded on the door, and Dean looked up blearily. "Yeah?" His voice was raspy with disuse.

"Is that you in there, Dean?" A voice called. "My name is Doctor Rahal, is everything alright?"

Outside, Doctor Rahal was close to having a panic attack. She'd taken a special liking to Dean the instant the ambulance had rushed him into her care– the parents told her that their son had been kidnapped and beaten by some creep, and Rahal sympathised. She'd experienced something similar at his age.

For almost three days she'd worked to look after him. His injuries were severe, and it was both safer and kinder for him to be put into a medically-induced coma while he healed. Rahal had been the one to clean him, make sure he was getting all his nutrients, and update the anxious parents on his condition. For two and a half days nothing had changed.

The morning of the third day Dean had woken in a frenzy, tearing half his stitches and passing out on the floor. Rahal hadn't been on shift at the time, but she'd come rushing in to check on him as soon as she was alerted. About two hours after that, when Rahal was with some other patients, a nurse had told her that Dean's bed was empty, every IV tube and monitor wire abandoned.

Rahal couldn't let Dean know how terrified she had been, and how happy she was to know he was awake. That would be unprofessional. 

The doorknob turned slowly and Dean shuffled out, one sleeve of his gown drooping as though he hadn't been able to figure out how to properly remove it. Rahal tutted and adjusted it, gently steering Dean back to the bed.

"You shouldn't be up yet." She scolded lightly. "I'm not even sure how you managed to walk that far, to be honest. Or how you got out of the restraints. Don't know whether to be impressed or disappointed."

Dean allowed the doctor to chat as he crawled back into bed. He wasn't feeling up to conversation. He wanted answers.

It wasn't usually hospital policy to discuss results in detail with minors, but Dean was insistent that he could handle it. As the list went on, whoever, panic began to claw its way up his throat.

Aside from the usual amounts of cuts and bruises, most of which would heal completely, Dean had also suffered some more damaging injuries. Among these were two broken ribs, a broken finger, and a third degree burn across his side from when Jacob became bored with his usual methods of entertainment.

And then there was his eye.

"My eye?" Dean whispered. He reached up to touch the bandages, feeling the stiff material under his fingertips. Rahal shifted her weight, frowning.

"I'm sorry, Dean. The sepsis– that is to say, the blood poisoning–"

"I know what sepsis is." Dean snapped. He took a shaky breath and pulled his knees up to his chest, wincing as his damaged ribs shifted. Tears started to bud at the corner of his eye and he growled, dragging his sleeve over his face. "I want my mum and dad. And–"

_Jody._

Jody, rushing down the stairs, relief and happiness written across her face.

Jody, blood splattering the walls as the bullet bore into her back, her mouth open in a shocked 'oh' as she collapsed.

Jody, on the ground, hatred twisting her features, raising a hand towards Jacob to–

"We can't get ahold of your parents right now." Rahal said, interrupting Dean's thoughts. "It's pretty late in the night, Dean. I'll try again in the morning."

She carefully reattached Dean's IV fluids and heart monitor, exchanging his nasal tubing for a full oxygen mask. Dean tried to speak, tried to ask where Jody was, but he found he could not fight back against the exhaustion and fear pulling at his mind.

Dean was already asleep when Rahal left the room.


	22. Chapter 22

The third time Dean woke up, it was to a plate of rubbery scrambled eggs and a little carton of milk resting on the table beside him. Real food. Hospital food, but real food nonetheless. Dean attacked it with vigour, barely even pausing to breathe.

"Damn." Said a voice. "You eat like a trucker in a desert."

The bed across from Dean's, the one with the balloon tied to it, was no longer empty. Sitting on it was a boy a couple years younger than Dean, with red hair that curled at the ends and bright eyes that a puppy would be jealous of. Dean was instantly enamoured.

"Yeah." Dean said. With real food inside him, he was starting to feel better already. "Yeah, it's been a while since I've eaten."

"Too right. You've jus' bin sleepin' since you got here." Said the boy. He had a heavy accent, but Dean couldn't quite place it. Grinning, the boy clambered out of his bed and moved stiffly over to Dean's, dragging a heart monitor along behind him.

Dean grunted and moved to one side with a whisper of sheets so the boy could sit next to him. "Name's Dean." He said, holding out one bandaged hand, and the boy waved him away.

"Yeah, I know. Like I said, I bin watching Doc Rahal fuss over you fer _days_." The boy adjusted his heart monitor, tugging it closer so he could lie down next to Dean. "Me, I'm Rodney."

"Nice to meet you, Rodney." Dean said politely. To be honest, he was a little overwhelmed by this kid's enthusiasm.

Rodney only grew more excited at Dean’s timidness. “Yer da came by.” He informed Dean. “Big guy, long hair. He put a ouija board on yer bed! Like he were tryin’ to talk to ya!”

“Er.” Dean began, but Rodney plowed on as though he hadn’t spoken, hopping up to bounce on the bed. For a sick kid, he was awfully energetic.

“He go’ more than he bargained fer, though!” Rodney crowed. “Wanna know what the most haunted place in the world is? After a cemetery? A hospital! I swear to ya, Dean, that ouija board broke in half!”

Thankfully, the conversation was forced to a halt when the nurses came in for morning checkup, sending Rodney scrambling back to his bed with a burst of mischievous laughter. One of the nurses, clearly a friend, swatted at him affectionately.

The other peeled off to hover by Dean's bed, checking his vitals with various pieces of equipment and giving him a handful of tablets to take. "You're adjusting very well." She noted cheerfully, clearing up Dean's breakfast plates. Dean swallowed his medicine, struggling to think of a response.

"When can I see my family?" Dean asked, sipping at his water cup. He hadn't realised how dehydrated he'd been. Noticing this, the nurse poured him a second cup and smiled.

"Soon." She promised. "As soon as your parents get here, we'll take you all to see your sister."

Dean leaped up with such enthusiasm that he blacked out for a second, startling the nurses and Rodney. Grabbing at the side of the bed to keep himself steady, Dean gave a lopsided grin. "Jody? She's alive?"

"Of course.” The nurse said, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Just... prepare yourself, honey, okay?”

———

Eileen squeezed Dean’s hand tightly. She couldn’t speak. Her face was pale, and shiny with sweat. 

Dean felt the same way.

Everything in him wanted to leap from the wheelchair and run to his sister. But she was hooked up to so many monitors he wasn't even sure how he could hold her without hurting her worse.

"Jodes?" He rasped.

Jody stirred a little, and slowly opened one eye. “Hey.” She rasped. Her voice was muffled by the oxygen mask.

Sam let out a breath and Eileen gasped a little, a tiny sound that Dean barely registered. A grin broke across his face, tweaking and pulling his stitches, and he rolled his chair forever fully across the floor, closing the gap between him and his sister.

“Hey.” He whispered. There wasn’t any bandage in her hair, so he patted her tentatively.

Jody winced a little, and turned her head stiffly to look at her parents. They were holding each other, talking to the doctor anxiously. Humming softly, Jody’s hand found Dean’s and held it tightly.

“Are– she croaked, pausing to cough. “Are they really mad?”

His finger hurt. Jody was clutching his broken one. Adjusting her grip, Dean snuck a glance over at Sam and Eileen. “I don’t know.” He murmured. “We haven’t talked about it yet. I don’t think they’re proper mad though, just scared.”

“Just scared.” Jody echoed. She reached up shakily to brush her knuckles along the side of Dean’s face, in his blind spot. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“I wouldn’t have been, if not for you.” Dean said gently. A shiver raced up his spine at the memory of what had happened in that basement. “Jacob wanted to make Dad watch when he killed me. And then he was going to kill Dad, too. You’re a hero, Jodes. You saved us.”

This earned a dry, sickly laugh from Jody, before her eyes began to flutter. “Love you. Glad you’re alright.” She mumbled.

Most brothers wouldn’t say it back. But Dean wasn’t most brothers, and this wasn’t an ordinary situation. He leaned forward to kiss Jody’s hair. “Love you too.”

The nurse that had accompanied them to visit Jody drifted to his side. “We need to return you to your bed.” She said, gently taking the handles of Dean’s wheelchair. He let her, reaching out to hug his parents as they passed. They couldn’t come back with him, apparently.

“You need your rest.” Eileen told him. She crouched down to be at eye level and put her hands on Dean’s lap. To anyone else, it might have looked like she was fiddling her thumbs with worry.

“Stay safe.” She said. “Jody will be fine, I promise.”

“Do you?” Dean asked, thinking back to what Rodney had said. His sign language wasn’t very good, what with his broken finger, but Eileen understood the unspoken anxiety. She nodded once, putting every ounce of certainty she had into the movement.

Dean smiled, ducking his head so she could kiss him, and was asleep before they had even reached his room. The pain killers they gave him had a real sedative kick to them.

As such, Dean didn’t wake up when Rodney cried out, just once, and passed away in his sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

Jody and Dean were moved out of the ICU and into adjacent beds the next day. They were both still weak, still sore, but has proven themselves animated enough to be put into the children’s ward.

This was on the same day they allowed visitors to start arriving, and I’m early evening, the Fitzgeralds were alerted to this fact.

The twins barrelled into the hospital with their usual grace and subtlety, careening into the room that housed Dean and Jody. They stood still at the door for a moment, staring at their friends with a mixture of horror and awe.

Castiel burst into tears.

"Oh! Oh no!" Jody exclaimed, alarmed. Sammie was the emotional one. Not Castiel. This was new.

"Tiel, it's okay! We're fine!" Dean stood up to reassure him but must have moved wrong, because he fell forward with a pained yelp and Sammie had to catch him. This only made Castiel cry harder.

He gravitated towards Jody's bed and perched on the end of it, using her sheets to hide his face. "I should have been there!" He hiccuped. "I'm the oldest, I'm supposed to protect you all!"

Everyone immediately fell over themselves trying to calm him, doing their best to keep his eyes from flashing on the security cameras. It was Sammie who eventually snapped him out of it, threatening to claw Castiel to pieces and cause a national panic over the supernatural recovery.

When Castiel had calmed down, Dean gathered them all together to tell them about Rodney, and what he'd said about Sam's ouija board.

"Yeah, that makes sense." Sammie said, nodding. "He did it once before, with your uncle. It worked then. I've been reading those Carver Edlund books–"

"No spoilers." Jody interrupted sharply.

"Look, can we focus?" Castiel was almost back to his usual self, desperate to get down to business and solve the mystery put before them. "Can we talk to this Rodney kid? Where is he?"

At this, Dean frowned. Rodney hadn't been in bed when he'd woken up that morning, but he'd been almost back to health. Likely he was moved into a lower care ward, or discharged entirely. "He's not here anymore."

Castiel swore and adjusted himself on Jody's bed, reaching out to swipe a biscuit off her morning tea platter. This earned him a gentle slap on the arm, but he ignored it.

“Dead end.” Jody sighed. Maybe she would have added more, but Doctor Rahal rapped her knuckles lightly against the doorframe and sauntered in.

She wasn’t expecting four pairs of eyes to turn towards her, and jumped a little at the fierce expression in the blonde boys’ faces. “Oh! There’s more kids here than there was before. Hello, I’m Doctor Rahal.”

“I thought you worked in the ICU.” Said Dean. He was a little suspicious. Rahal looked... frazzled. Untidy. Her black hair, usually pulled back in a sleek ponytail, was hanging in untidy curls around her face.

If anything, Rahal seemed even more discombobulated by the comment. She shifted her weight, as though she wanted to sit down but knew it would be unprofessional to do so. “I did. I mean, I do. I’m an emergency surgeon, specifically, but I was put in charge of your general care as well.”

Dean frowned and looked at her. Really _looked_. The way she was looking back at him... it was unnerving, to say the least.

“Why?” Jody said challengingly. The threatening tone was ruined, however, when she tried to sit up and pulled her heavy stitches. Castiel patted her back as she dissolved into a coughing fit.

Doctor Rahal hesitated. As if noticing her haggard appearance, she started scraping her hair back to tidy it. “Someone had to. And I was alright with it, it’s my job.” She said stiffly. “Anyway, there’s a bit of a sickness going around the ICU. I wanted to make sure the two of you were feeling okay.”

Jody frowned, and nudged Castiel a little with her foot to get his attention. “Something’s up.” She signed, keeping her movements small to avoid attracting Rahal’s attention. “What you can tell?”

“She smells scared.” Castiel responded, narrowing his eyes a little. “She truly cares for Dean, though, so if there is a sickness going around, that’s normal.”

“It’s a hospital, there’s always a sickness going around.” Sammie interjected. He squinted at Doctor Rahal as she checked Dean and Jody’s charts. “She’s lying about something though. I just can’t put my finger on it...”

Doctor Rahal cleared her throat pointedly. “I don’t speak much sign language, but I do know enough.” She said, much to Jody’s shock. “I do care for Dean, that’s no lie. You guys can trust me. I have your best interests at heart.”

The hunters just looked at her, startled. Sure, sign language wasn’t an elaborate code of any kind, but meeting someone else who could speak it was always a little disconcerting. Especially if they listened in on the groups’ private conversations.

Dean managed to stave off the questions in that quick, simple way he was talented at. “We all feel fine, Doc. Sickness is normal in a hospital though, right? We don’t have anything to be afraid of?”

The pause was just a bit too long to be normal. “No, of course not.” said Doctor Rahal reluctantly. “You’ll be fine. It’s just a bit of a bug going around, that’s all, easily medicated.”

“That’s good.” Sammie’s shoulders slumped with relief, before he stood up quickly like a dog hearing a whistle. “Tiel, mum’s calling.”

“Right!” Castiel said loudly, side-eyeing Sammie. “On the phone! Because just hearing her shouting is weird!”

The twins started packing up, and Jody sat forward with an exaggerated groan. “Do you really have to go?”

“Even if they didn’t now, visiting hours are over soon anyway.” Doctor Rahal interjected soothingly. She stepped to one side to allow the boys to pass after they hugged Dean and Jodie, and with a swift goodbye and a promise of a visit, followed them out. She pulled the door shut behind her.

Once they were out of earshot, surely halfway down the corridor, Dean rolled over to face Jody. “So?”

“So what?” 

“There’s something going on here! Come on, you can almost smell it!” They’d been doing this song and dance for years, and Dean fell for it every time. Jody simply loved to wind him up, and when he was already excited, it was so damn easy.

Jody sighed thoughtfully and tucked her hands behind her head, closing her eyes. She was already drifting back to sleep. “Maybe so, big brother. But now is not the time to deal with it. Okay?”

“Sure. Fine.” Dean said. 

A movement outside attracted his attention and he pushed himself up, alert. At the window, waving frantically, was Rodney. He looked scared.

“Hey, Jodes.” Dean whispered. “Jodes!”

Jody, in response, only snored lightly. Snorting in contempt, Dean struggled out of bed and into his wheelchair. Strictly, he didn’t need it, but something in him said he’d be exhausted before his chat with Rodney was over. Making sure not to wake his sister, Dean rolled himself over to the door. 

The handle was icy, but he brushed it aside. There were more important things to focus on.


	24. Chapter 24

"Nice wheels." Rodney said, when Dean reached up to close the door behind him.

"Thanks. I need them because I was sleeping for so long that my legs aren't awake yet." Dean parked himself against the wall and beamed up at Rodney. He was surprised by how happy he was to see the younger boy. 

They headed down the hallway in an uneasy silence. The stillness did not at all resemble the boy Dean had met the day before, and it was unnerving. He wheeled himself faster, trying to keep up with Rodney's pace. "Hey! Slow down!"

"I can't." Rodney said patiently. "If I slow down, they might catch me."

"What?" Dean sputtered. He came to a stop, panting, as Rodney paused with his hand on the handle of the open janitor's closet. His head was lowered as if in deep thought, curls flopping over his eyes.

Rodney glanced up then, sharply. When he turned towards Dean, he stared to be staring _through_ him. Chills shot up Dean's spine and he took a squeaky roll backwards.

For a second Rodney didn't speak. Eventually, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean. I shouldn't have brought you out here."

"What?!" Dean demanded, a second time. 

No response. Rodney glanced up and around, scoping the surroundings, before he slipped into the closet on silent footsteps. Growling, Dean followed after him.

The closet was dark. Rodney hadn't turned on the light, and the hallway lights were dimmed for the night. Swallowing back his misgivings, Dean rolled in, trailing his hand across the wall to find the light switch.

Cold air rushed against Dean's neck and the closet door slammed shut. Injuries forgotten, Dean leaped to his feet and fell against the door, scrabbling for the handle.

His fingers caught the switch and brilliant light flooded his eyes, blinding him.

In front of him, unperturbed by the sudden brightness, was a little boy. He couldn't have been more than thirteen.

Dean lay still, sprawled against the door, heart thundering in his ears. The boy cocked his head to one side and his form flickered, like a video game glitch.

Suddenly, he was nose-to-nose with Dean. One hand reached, as though merely curious, and passed into Dean's chest.

Dean screamed and fell backwards as the door was flung open. Medical grade tennis shoes slammed the ground on either side of Dean. A primal scream tore itself free from deep within Doctor Rahal as she threw a an open swiss-army knife at the boy.

He roared as it made contact and vanished, leaving the knife to clatter against the lino floor.

Rahal looked around feverishly, pocketing the knife. Nobody was coming. Save for her own panting and Dean's hyperventilating, all was silent. 

"What the hell?" Dean rasped.

Rahal's eyes were wild. "Come on!" She grabbed Dean by the elbow and wrenched him to her feet. In his giddy, panicked state, Dean could only think of how strong she was for a young doctor, and how badly his chest hurt where the boy had shoved his arm through the skin.

Then they were sprinting back down the hall, Rahal all but dragging Dean. "Why aren't you in your room?" She spat, with more malice than an ordinary bedside manner should contain. "I told you it was dangerous! I told you there was a sickness going around!"

"You didn't tell me the sickness was a _ghost!_ " Dean snapped.

By the time they arrived back at Dean's room, Rahal had calmed down. She checked Jody's vitals, busying herself with examining her chart. Dean, wary, sat on the edge of the bed to massage his injuries. 

Rahal looked up in alarm. "How's your heart?"

"What?"

"Your heart. Did Ali touch it? Did he hurt you?" Rahal whipped a stethoscope seemingly from nowhere and started running it over Dean's chest while he swatted at her fruitlessly. Scolding him in another language, Rahal successfully pressed it against Dean's back and listened, shoulders slumping with relief.

Dean sat quietly, waiting while Rahal checked him over. "Ali?" He prompted, after a minute or two of silence.

Rahal didn't say anything for a while, gently manoeuvring Dean back into bed and hooking all his machines back up. "You're exhausted." She said eventually. "We'll have to redo your stitches. And a few other reopened wounds. It was too soon for you to run."

Dean watched darkly as she injected something into his IV line. "What's that?"

"Sedative." Rahal said calmly. "I need you to heal, Dean. As long as you're awake, you're a danger to yourself."

Sedative? She was putting him to sleep? Dean grappled clumsily with the drip, moving like he was swimming in molasses. Rahal took his hand, easily placing it over his chest.

"Don't worry, Dean." Her voice thundered, muffled as though speaking through water. "I promise, it's just so the doctors can fix you up again. By the time your parents..."

The remnants of her words faded, as Dean drifted off into darkness.

In his dreams, he was chasing Rodney and a half dozen other kids in hospital gowns through a dark hallway that never seemed to end. He called out to them, shouting himself hoarse, running like he never had before. But they never once turned around. And though they were walking at a normal pace, they vanished in the gloom.

All but one, who turned to him and cocked his head, eyes cold and calculating. "I can never move on." He said slowly.

And he vanished like dust in the wind, leaving Dean alone in the dark.


	25. Chapter 25

"You brought over all my homework." Jody deadpanned. "Thanks."

"Come on, Jodes." Irvine said imploringly, pressing the folder into Jody's hands. "I know it sucks, but if you don't do this assignment, you'll fail English! What if they make you repeat?"

Jody had lost track of how long she'd been in the hospital, but there was talk of releasing her soon. Dean, too, if he stopped undoing all of his healing through nighttime nonsense. As they spoke, Dean was curled up on his bed, watching them. He'd been quiet all day, thinking of things he wouldn't mention. That was fine by Jody. She probably didn't want to know.

"Irvine, I got _shot_." Jody complained. "It shattered my ribs and f– and wrecked up my lung. Don't you think the teachers will give me a break?"

Irvine bit her lip and sat back, stretching her legs over Jody's. "Nope." She said, popping the 'p'. "I checked. They said you might be able to scrape by if you do this work. Oh, and they called Dean a lost cause."

On the bed adjacent, Dean groaned and rolled over to face the wall.

At least Irvine had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry, man.”

“S’okay, not like anyone else in this family finished high school.” Dean muttered. He sat up, impatient, drumming his fingers against the mattress. “Where are the boys? They should be here by now.”

Jody found this annoying, and curled her hands into fists around her blanket. Couldn’t Dean just focus on the here and now for five seconds? Yeah, maybe Jody was the one who wanted to a be a hunter. But right now, she wanted to heal and do homework and catch up with her ordinary best friend. She didn’t want to hang out with the Fitzgeralds, and inevitably get dragged into more trouble.

That felt a little cruel. Guilt and shame flushed Jody's cheeks red and she turned away from Dean. She didn't mean that, did she? She loved Sammie and Castiel. Right? She was just tired.

The twins chose that moment to burst into the room in their usual blunt fashion, exchanging general chatter and high fives of varying sorts with Dean. Intimidated, Irvine tucked her knees against her chest and leaned into Jody's arms.

It was difficult to understand what they were saying. Half of the words were hushed or coded, punctuated by flurries of sign language Jody couldn't quite make out. She thought she heard the word 'dangerous'. She thought she saw the word 'ghosts'. Her expression darkened, and she pulled Irvine closer. No way was she letting her innocent best friend be dragged into this, psychic or not.

The way the boys were looking at Irvine, with an almost hungry impatience, was beginning to drag on Jody's willpower. They wanted her to leave, which meant they had official things they wanted to talk about. And to be honest, Jody was kind of curious too.

Irvine seemed to sense it. She reached out to give Jody a hug, kissing her hair gently. "I'd better get going, Jodes." She said regretfully, darting a glance at the boys on the bed opposite. "Dean, get well soon, okay? Bye guys!"

She hugged Jody again and left, hunching her shoulders a little when she passed Castiel and Sammie. They were almost five years older than her and built like rugby players, so even without knowledge of the supernatural they were intimidating to her. Sammie seemed to find this funny, and snapped his teeth at her so she jumped as she shut the door behind her.

Jody glared at him while he laughed, and Castiel socked him in the arm.

“Ow!” Sammie rubbed the spot, frowning. “That hurt.”

“Good.” Castiel said, a little coldly. He turned to Jody and tried for a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Seeing her and Dean in this place still made him feel awful.

Jody folded her arms over her chest and raised one eyebrow, twisting around in the bed to face the group. “Well? What was so important?”

Dean did his best to look apologetic, but with half his face still covered in bandages he just looked like he was in deep thought. Or slightly deranged. 

“We’ll apologise to Irvine later, I promise.” He said. “For now Jody, we have a case to solve!”

If he expected a reaction of some kind, Jody didn’t show it. She just hummed lowly, and brushed her fringe out of her eyes with her fingers.

The silence stretched.

“A case.” Sammie repeated, in case Jody hadn’t heard.

“No, no, I heard.” Jody said calmly. “I was just wondering if you’d all _lost your minds?”_

The boys almost fell back with the force of her anger, like something out of a cartoon. Castiel actively cringed, moving in front of Sammie to stop him from saying anything. “Jody, look, none of us have much information. But Dean says there’s something here—”

“Dean is half blind and off his face on morphine!”

Dean leaped to his feet and sagged a little, but managed to keep himself up. His face with red with humiliation and fury.

“I know what I saw!” He snapped. “Jody there’s something in this hospital, and I think it’s killing children. That sickness the doc mentioned, I think it’s supernatural.”

He told her everything, lay out the details he had and clarified what the twins already knew. Rodney’s disappearance in the cupboard, the dark haired boy who’d attacked him, Rahul and her pocket knife. His weird dream. All of it. 

At the end of it, there was a familiar light in Jody’s eyes. She stood up and stretched, her ribs popping painfully where they’d broken, but she didn’t care. There was no time to think of her own pain when there was a mystery in this hospital!

“Sounds to me,” She said, “that we have to question Doctor Rahal.”

Castiel smiled, tilting his head up and smiling a little in a way that made Jody’s breath catch. He dug around in his jacket pocket, and produced a small notebook. Jody’s casebook.

“Good to have you on board.” He said, and tossed it to her.


	26. Chapter 26

They made it about a quarter way down the hall before Dean had to sit down, and another ten feet before Jody collapsed. 

It took a little while for Castiel and Sammie to locate two wheelchairs and bring them back. It took even longer to get Dean and Jody to agree to the new, and significantly smarter, plan.

As such, evening was near approaching by the time the group made their way towards the staff breakroom. Sammie, pushing Dean’s chair, moved a little faster and reached the door first. Taking a breath, he knocked and stepped back.

Footsteps approached the door, and Dean turned to Jody with a grin. “I think,” he whispered loudly, “we should have a jousting match after this. I know where the brooms are kept.”

“For a soon-to-be high school dropout, you have pretty good ideas.” Jody whispered back.

Dean frowned. “That felt unnecessary.”

The conversation was interrupted when the door swung open, revealing a grey-haired man in a lab coat. He had half a sandwich in one hand. “Hello.” He said politely, clearly not sure who the kids were or why they were here.

“Hi Doctor....” Castiel paused and glanced at the man’s name tag. “.... Johns. We were wondering if Doctor Rahal was here?”

Doctor Johns surveyed the group. He knew the two kids in the wheelchairs, of course. He was an ophthalmologist, and had been the one to remove the boy’s left eye. The girl, she had never passed through his care. But he did know of her, from breakroom gossip. It’s not every day a girl is shot trying to free her brother from kidnappers. 

“She’s in the ER at the moment, I think.” He said after a moment. “I can get her schedule if you like, to find out when she’s free. Or I can connect you to another doctor to talk to?”

Jody glanced at Dean, who shook his head. Another doctor wouldn't work in this scenario.

"Nevermind." Sammie said, readjusting his grip on Dean's wheelchair. "Thanks anyway, Doctor Johns!"

They travelled down the hallway, dodging doctors and nurses, searching for a quiet place to talk.

"Well, that was a bust." Dean muttered, leaning back so his head rested against Sammie's arms. "Where are we going? This isn't the way back to our room."

“We’re not going back to your room.” Castiel said airily, pausing at in intersection in the hallways. He looked left and right, and decided on left. “We’re going to the ER, to find Doctor Rahal.”

Jody slammed the brakes on the wheelchair, almost sending Sammie over her head.

“We can’t go to the ER!” She said, with a hint of anxiety in her voice. "Come on guys, be reasonable. Rahal has work to do."

Nobody responded. Sammie frowned, lifting his chin a little. "I can smell blood."

Jody growled at him and reached up to tap him sharply on the face. "Hey! Of course you can smell blood, we're in a hospital. Were you even listening to me?"

"No, no, not hospital blood. Different blood." Castiel chimed in darkly, parking Dean's wheelchair next to Jody's. Without even a glance around to make sure nobody was watching he shifted, his teeth growing into canines and his eyes flashing gold as he pressed himself against the wall.

Dean sat up, alert, half rising out of his wheelchair. "Dude! Knock it off!"

Castiel ignored the complaints, making a gesture to Sammie so rapid that Dean and Jody couldn't understand it. Sammie could, though, and joined Castiel against the wall. His eyes, too, were shining golden.

Both of them crept forward is the near silence of predators on the hunt, murmuring softly to each other. Then they turned a corner and disappeared.

Jody and Dean exchanged a glance, baffled and wary. There was no way this was going to end well.

"Weapons?" Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder. The fact that the hallway had remained empty this long was a miracle, but Dean didn't like their chances. Someone had to come by eventually.

Jody stared at him like he was stupid. "Dean, we're in a _hospital_." She said bluntly. "Besides, we're not professional hunters. I don't know about you, but I don't just carry knives on me!"

"There's plenty of knives in a hospital." Dean staid stubbornly, but before he could continue the argument further the twins came racing down the hall like there was fire at their heels. Castiel was stumbling a little as he ran, one hand grabbing his chest. Both were panting, and without even slowing down they grabbed the handles of each wheelchair and continued their run.

Jody pulled her legs up to keep from kicking anyone in the legs. "What the hell is going on?" She yelped.

"Let me check." Dean said, twisted around in the chair. Behind them, half running and half flickering like a bad-quality video, came the child ghost Ali. There was a look of furious concentration on his face.

"Ah." Dean said.

The ghost flung out a hand and Castiel yelped. Jody's wheelchair skidded and tipped as he let go of it and flew backwards, slamming against the plaster wall. He crumpled in a heap on the ground and didn't get up. The ghost child approached Castiel's unmoving form, head tilted to one side.

"Hey!" Sammie charged the ghost, leaving Dean to help a disoriented Jody.

Unarmed and with no plan, it wasn't much of a challenge. Sammie was next through the wall.

Now free from the interruption, Ali reached forward and shoved his arm into Castiel's chest.

Castiel arched his back and screamed, an ungodly wail like a dying animal, and swung a piece of pipe he'd pulled from the broken wall. Ali's form shimmered, like steam off a pavement and vanished.

The group stood, shellshocked. Castiel was trembling, hunched over as if in pain. Sammie, woozy, seemed to be trying to fix the wall with a piece of gum he'd found in his pocket.

"Think the hospital insurance covers this?" Dean muttered to Jody.

Despite their injuries, despite the powerful ghost, despite everything that had happened, Jody laughed.


End file.
